


Its a Virtue

by WonderWench



Series: Its a Virtue [1]
Category: Constantine: The Hellblazer (Comics), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel/Demon Relationship, Bisexuality, Character Death, Depression, Destiny, F/M, Heavy Drinking, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Moral Dilemmas, Multi, Personal Growth, Romance, Self-Harm, Slow Build, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:54:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 45
Words: 211,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24663412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderWench/pseuds/WonderWench
Summary: *SECOND DRAFT SEP 2020 Complete*This story follows a woman through the supernatural world, her father taught her to kill things and that catapulted her into the path of heaven, hell, magic and violence. Temperance is a sarcastic punk with a death wish, but death will have to wait, she meets two brothers and the world tilts on its axis.What choice do you have, when the Winchesters pull you into their world, but to fight the good fight. It might be easier if she believed in good and evil, if she believed in anything....'He's not my god.' She shook her head, lip curling in distaste. The bastard didn't deserve her, as far as she was concerned.'Well, who the heck is?' Dean stood, he looked exhausted, a slump to his shoulders.'Patti fucking Smith.'...
Relationships: Amara (Supernatural)/Original Female Character(s), Crowley (Supernatural)/Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s), John Constantine/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Its a Virtue [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1893853
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.
> 
> I was introduced to Supernatural by my bff who is a SUPER fan! With that in mind this story is not true to those characters, though I tried my best with what I know. There is a sprinkle of John Constantine in later chapters and a little bit of mythos that was inspired by Gaiman's Sandman. Consider this an AU where the Winchesters are just as fierce and heroic, but an introduction to a new character knocks them off their hell-raising path. This is a work in progress and will be returned to and edited, comments are very welcome!

He didn't trust the bastard as far as he could throw him, but he owed them a favour and they needed help, supernatural help. They waited on a deserted road looking out over foggy pine forests and frigid water in the back-ass of nowhere. The air was still, his brother fidgeted beside him, crossing and uncrossing his long legs. There was a change, a silent one, like a settling of air around them and the empty road was now populated with that bastard, in his nice suit and a skinny girl in fishnets.  
She had two days worth of smudged eyeliner on and her hair was a tangle of sweat, glitter and old wax. She slapped sunglass over her eyes, as the light hit her face, and rolled down her black sleeves, Dean's quick eyes counting the faded club stamps on her wrist and the back of her hand.   
'Who the hell is this?' he growled.  
'You wanted a magic user.' The Demon clapped his hands happily and she groaned at the sound, putting a thin hand to her forehead.  
'I was throughly enjoying my holiday' she muttered, head wobbling drunkenly on her scar riddled neck, her accent was a lilting mix of the west of Ireland flavoured with something continental that Dean couldn't pin down.  
She rummaged in her pockets 'Ohh, score.'   
Half a roll of crumbling mints came up in her fist, popping one in her mouth, she offered the rest round with a winning smile that Dean found himself liking against his better judgement.  
'I did, I meant an experienced one. Not some club bunny who's, what, coming down after a two day bender.' he said to Crowley.  
'Three' she nodded.  
Crowley, the recently proclaimed King of Hell, huffed and snapped his fingers, causing the girl to shudder, violently and bend forward at the waist.   
'Lovely' she gasped out, tersely. Straightening up she glared at the Demon.  
'You owe me about 40 quids worth of MDMA and a bottle of tequila.' her voice was hard now, clipped and low. Crowley winked at her.  
'There, sober as a judge. Call me if you need me.' and he vanished with another snap of his manicured fingers.  
She pushed the glasses off her head and looked frankly at the brothers. The smile was gone, a sort of bored indifference closed off her face. She was older than Dean thought, not actually some teenage Witch with bad taste in clothes.  
'Temperance.' she said, holding a hand out.  
Dean snorted and that and smirked at his brother.   
'Fitting.'  
He clapped her hand in his, finding it calloused, slim and strong. He stepped quickly back, feeling a little surge of power, like electricity, spark off of her. She blinked, mildly, at the look in his eyes.  
'You know what you're doing?' he asked.  
She didn't reply, but gave his car a sort of flat look, like she was unimpressed by it, them and the earth under her feet. Dean huffed, spreading his arms out protectively. One brow rose expressively over her dark eyes.  
'Awful looking car.'  
His brother, long and quiet beside him burst into a fit of bright laughter.  
'Sam.' he held out his own hand and she shook it.   
'So, you're a Witch?'  
'Half Demon. Self taught witch, though, a mage helped along the way and I worked for a Voodoo priest for a while.' she looked around the empty road, pointedly ignoring their disgust.   
'Half?' Dean began, his lip curling.  
Of course Crowley would stick a lapdog on them, some Cambion freak of nature ready to dissembowl them when their backs were turned. They should have checked through their own channels, he just wanted this favour out of the way, os he could go back to hating the King from a distance.  
Her dark grey eyes took on that flat, bored look again, the flicker of amusement from their greeting gone, as if she had read his mind. Maybe she could, some Demons could do that.  
'So, what do you need?' she asked.  
She looked like the survivor of a disco apocalypse, a battered old school bag hanging off one shoulder, worn doc martin boots, a grey velvet minidress and a black shirt under a frayed leather jacket. Everything about her was crumpled, from her hair to her shoe laces, yet she wore it well, she made starving junkie look good.   
Her hair was shadow dark under the glitter, her skin had an unhealthy sallow pallor except for a mass of scars puckering her throat that, almost, shone silver in the sun. She looked like death walking. If he didn't know what she was, Dean might flirt with her a little.  
Sam, seeming to weigh their options and put aside her less than stellar introduction, took a dog-eared notebook from his pocket, flicked through the pages and held it out to her.   
'We got a nest of these guys feeding off college students. Found the place but its warded, uh, really well warded.' he had a resonant voice, soothing even in his haste to explain.  
Dean watched, his eyes narrowed as she scanned the polaroid and flicked through the hastily written notes.   
'You can't get in?'  
'Not without locking yourself into a magical contract.'  
'Ok.' she handed it back, looking around.   
'But I need something sugary and a bathroom first.'  
The diner was quaintly decorated with flying ducks and muddy watercolours of pine trees. She returned from the bathroom wearing a ripped pair of once black jeans and a black shirt, buttoned to the throat. The elderly waiter had poured the brothers coffee and brought her a glass of cloudy orange juice which she sipped, quietly.   
Dean drank his coffee, one hand in his jacket, wrapped around the handle of his knife, beside him Sam's leg was bouncing nervously. His little brother had plenty of reasons to dislike Demons, hell, they both did. She finished the last of her juice, brought her eyes up to them and said.  
'Right. I'm going to need the ingredients for a blood curse, and we will have to get the glad-rags on and go into this Club like everyone else does.'   
'A what?' Dean, who had been increasingly nervous about recruiting her help, crossed his arms over his chest.  
'If we go in the front door we're bound to their rules.' Sam said, looking at his brother for guidance.  
'Yeah, we need to be.' she stood, fishing out money from her pocket and paying the bill.   
'Why?' Sam towered over her, it was almost funny to see them side by side, she just about reached his chest.  
'For the curse to work.' she said, unhelpfully.   
'Whats a blood curse?' they hurried after her, onto the street, Dean looking at his brother for an answer to that one. He hated magic, he really hated it, curses and stuff to do with Witches always made his skin crawl.  
She beat Sam too an explanation, leading them towards the town centre.   
'It's a type of curse, a type of temporary enchantment, really. These parasites you're after, they usually drain their prey of blood before eating the flesh.'  
'So you want to poison them, with our blood?' Sam asked, catching on quickly  
She nodded, opening the door of a health food shop and returning after a few minutes with a paper bag of musky smelling herbs.   
'Yeah, well, mine. Might kill either of you dreamboats.'  
'But, if we get one of them, which is great and all.' Sam hasted to add.   
'The others will know, it will blow our cover.'  
'Not if they're linked, hive mind. Do you lads have a place here?' she was looking around, brows lowered, she didn't seem to have the slightest idea where they were.  
'Motel.' Dean said, beckoning her to follow.   
'They might be, like, connected? Like have one mind and different bodies, that kind of Borg shit?'  
She shrugged, silently.   
There was something unsettling about being around her. Her whole demeanor was so dull that Dean kept having to remind himself she was there, it was strange, every time he looked away from her he almost completely forgot about her. It hit him as they arranged themselves around the dusty bedroom, there was magic involved here.  
'Are you warded?”  
She looked up, blinked, then slapped a hand to her forehead.   
'Fuck, yeah, sorry!'   
Before he or Sam could ask she scored a graze through one of the club stamps on her wrist with a ragged fingernail, breaking the pattern.   
Her presence rushed in, solid and real, Dean could smell her, stale booze and cotton fresh deodorant. Hangover smell. He crinkled his nose, noticing just how pretty she was. She looked a little ill, unhealthy, the sharp angles of her face too pronounced, her skin a little greasy, but pretty. The sort of pretty that would age well.   
Sam frowned down at the ward. 'You stamped it on?'  
'Lasts until the ink fades' She explained, putting her arm away under her sleeve and adding, a bit defensively.  
'I was on holiday.'  
'Who are you hiding from?' Deans sharp eyes sliced into her, but even without the magic she was difficult to read. She was standoffish, purposefully blank.  
'Oh, you know, everyone.' without the ward to interfere her voice was more melodic but still low and clipped. She didn't wait for them, she opened the herbs, sorted through them and tucking her long hair behind her ears, began to prepare.  
'Why do you think we should go in the door?' He watched her work, she was competent with the ingredients, at least.  
'We enter into their realm, by their rules, they can only hurt us they way they hurt their prey. So, we know what they will do, its an advantage, might as well use it.'  
Dean knew their dad would say something just like that, he played recklessly with life too. Sam caught his eye, nodding in agreement at her plan. If Sam thought it was worth trying, Dean would do it.  
'So, how do we know they have a hive mind?' Sam asked, Dean saw his hands twitch away from his knife.  
'We don't, but most that I've come across do. Call it a hunch.'  
The brothers shared a look, Sam nodded minutely, and they began to work. 

The line for the Club was short and the bouncer was the usual and expected breed of surly and massive. He gave the three of them a long hard look, Temperance looped her arm through Deans and laid her head over his shoulder, a very coquettish smile in place. He let them in, turned Sam away with an angry snarl of 'Not tonight, buddy.' his eyes fixed somewhere above the taller Winchester's head.  
Dean stiffened against her, but kept walking through the steel door. A set of rotting velvet curtains were looped on stained cord behind the doors, marking out the entrance to a lounge. It looked like the set of the Adam's family, though thoroughly worn and stained. Music throbbed down from wall mounted speakers, and bar staff in scarlet waistcoats carried trays of punch in tiny china cups.  
Dean sat on a pink satin couch, its gilt back gently flaked paint onto the threadbare carpet as his weight settled on the old springs. Temperance, wearing her slinky velvet dress again, draped herself alongside.   
'Relax.' she purred, taking a drink and pushing it into his hands. He flashed a strained smile and spoke through clenched teeth.  
'This is a bad idea, splitting up like this.'  
'Oh, hush' she put on an airy laugh, as if he had told a joke.  
After a moment, when he had tasted his drink and sat less rigidly in his seat, a beautiful woman in a high-necked yellow gown flowed towards them.  
Her broad cheekbones and sharp brow shaded ruddy black eyes.   
'Hello', her voice more of a gasp than anything else as she bent to run a finger down Temperance's cheek.   
'Come with me.' she urged, in that same breathless tone.  
Dean felt Temperance tap his arm, and they rose and followed the creature up the spiraling stairs to a drab room, empty but for a grotesque four poster bed. Dean sat down, uncertainly under the old hangings and staring cherubs, and Temperance pretended to blush in the doorway.  
'Beautiful.' the woman purred, she led Temperance lightly by the hand and had her straddle Dean's lap.   
Ok, he thought, that wasn't so bad. He put his hands on her thighs, gripping hard muscle. The woman's claw like fingers sifted through Temperance's hair, pulling it over one shoulder, she trailed diamond bright nails over her throat and, suddenly, kissed her.  
Dean did flush then, his hips rocking forward against his better judgement. Something had cloaked around his head, ti made him relax. He felt almost happy. Temperance broke away from the creature's lips, smirked and bent to kiss him, her tongue coiling in his mouth, stoping his gasp.   
That was good. His eyes fluttered open when she pulled away, the heady feeling of contentment that had taken over very suddenly disappeared.The monster the woman's lithe body, opened her mouth, far too wide, and sank long, razor sharp, teeth into the already scared skin above Temperance's collarbone.  
Temperance, snarling, screwed her fist into the long mane of glossy curls, holding it down, forcing it to drink her cursed blood. The creature fought free, rearing back and clutching scaled hands to its chest. It folded in on itself, collapsing, screeching out a long, piercing cry.  
An echoing shriek confirmed their theory, that the monsters were all linked, they all would succumb to the curse. Their flesh and bone poisoning them as they died, badly, in the ruined nest. They had one mind and were paying for it now.  
A surge of triumph lifted Dean's mood and he jumped to his feet, knocking candles over to kindle the bedding, they hurried down the stairs under a swirl of smoke, tripping over bodies.   
'C'mon!' he urged, wrenching open the door.   
Coughing and spluttering they emerged into the night air, a pale and anxious Sam was waiting. He threw open the car door and they bundled in.   
'Don't die on my back seat!' Dean warned the girl, peeling out of the alley.  
'I wont.' she said, her hand still pressed to her neck, she shivered, cleared her throat and opened her eyes. In the mirror he caught the tiniest flicker of black and looked quickly away. He didn't need to see any demonic shit, not right then.  
'Uh, thanks.' Dean offered, when they reached the Motel, it's blinking neon light buzzed in the hush.  
'Yeah, that went pretty smoothly.' Sam added.  
'No bother.' she tumbled out of the car, pulling her jeans and shirt back on without an ounce of self consciousness. Dean was treated to an eyeful of scars and bruises as she buttoned herself up. Fishing her phone out of her pocket she scowled, probably the most expressive her face had been since they met her.   
'Oh, no. Theres blood under my screen'. She held it in two hands, like it was a small wounded animal.  
Sam took it, polished it on his shirt. 'Huh.'  
'Can one of you call Gus for me?' she asked, shoving her dress into her backpack without ceremony.  
'Who?” Dean was bent over the trunk, packing away his knives in their neat cases. He poked his head out and caught her blank stare.  
'You mean Crowley?' he asked.  
She laughed, a harsh little laugh. 'Fuck off! Thats what he goes by! The prick, I knew it was something stupid.'  
'What?' Sam looked between them, lost.  
'Aliestor Crowley, the occult lad. Sure, Ozzy Osbourne has a song about him. You know, the Thelamites?'  
'Oh! 'Yeah, I've read about that guy. Huh, funny, I never really thought about that before.' Sam patted down his pockets and took out his notebook, adding a line to his page on Crowley.  
'I can't believe you call the King of Hell, Gus!' Dean shook his head, snorting at the thought. Why would a Demon need a fake name, it was hardly his real one. No way the guy would give that out.  
Her eyes narrowed a little, and her mouth flattened out into a stiff line. 'You think you know a guy and find out he's hiding that from you. Anyway, could one of you call him?'  
'Sure.' Sam pulled out his phone, tapping through his contacts.   
Dean cleared his throat. She had done good, he could admit that, she was resourceful, quick, probably would be a confident enough Hunter to know.  
'Um, look, you're pretty good. You know. If you ever need a hand, or...' he trailed off. She took a stub of eyeliner from her pocket and scrawled her number on his hand.  
'Call me if you need any help again. I'm in New Orleans, for now.'  
'Right, Voodoo was it?' Dean blinked down at his hand.  
In the gloom a well dressed figure appeared. 'Hello boys!' He said, striding forward.  
'Did you have a fun play date?'  
'Yes, Crowley' she said pointedly, shouldering her bag.   
Dean watched his mouth wobble at that name, though he tried to scoff in his usual smug way. So, maybe Gus was his real name.  
Crowley stiffened suddenly as Temperance turned towards him, he had caught sight of the dry blood on her neck. He rounded on the brothers, teeth bared.   
'You let her get hurt!'  
'I'm fine!' she snapped.  
Dean glanced at his brother, who was looking a little bemused at the pair. He should have asked how they knew each other.  
'You're injured!' The Demon said, his flashing eyes moved over her neck, down to her hands and back again.  
'C'mon, I want to go home and not be wearing this bra.' She held out both hands and gave the brothers a nod.   
As quickly as they had appeared that morning, they vanished. Leaving Dean to shake his head and climb into the car.  
'That was a little weird.' Sam said, yawning into his fist.  
It had been a long day, Dean turned the key in the ignition and flicked on his stereo. The job was done, he put the town in his rear view mirror and drove off into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'What, you don't do nicknames?' he gestured her to crouch by the low wall and they made their way around the house, to the back gate.  
> 'I've had a few, but Tem is a new one.'  
> 'What's Crowley call you?' he asked, genuinely curious despite the peril.  
> 'Darling, usually. '
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Story bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form all comments are welcome.

Crowley was scowling when he pulled her away from the road. He was usually scowling though, so she didn't particularly mind. They emerged from nothing into her tiny bedsit apartment. She kicked off her shoes and dropped her jacket in a heap on the bed.   
'I need a shower.'  
'Thank you.' he said as she moved away to open her bathroom door.   
'I owe you one.'  
'You know me.' she winked, facing him.  
'I like tequila, Crowley.'  
'Do not call me that.' he growled.  
'Sorry, your Grace.' she bowed, mockingly.  
He tapped her nose, smirking to himself, and vanished.

Temperance didn't like to be alone, she just was, more or less all the time. It was better that way. If anyone ever got past her cold, caustic demeanor they hit the wall of her lifestyle. She didn't hang around anywhere for long, already she had spent too long in New Orlean's.   
She was considering this, one damp afternoon, several weeks after meeting the brothers. She was working a lunch shift in the bar when her new phone rang, Crowley had made her a gift of something up-to-date and clever, which she occasionally remembered to turn on. She didn't have many people to call, or text.   
'Yeah?' she sandwiched the device between her shoulder and ear. It was a sultry day, for Autumn, the old wicker fans pushed swampy air around the bar, its three, tall, ironwork doors thrown open to tempt a nonexistent breeze.  
'Temperance? It's Dean, uh, Winchester.'  
'Hiya, how are you?” she handed a customer her drink and bent to kick open the dishwasher.   
'I don't actually know anyone else called Dean.'   
'Good, um, actually, we could use a hand, if you were available.' he sounded distracted, his voice was gruff down the line.  
'When and where?' the slow jazz music playing through the speakers almost downed out his response.  
'Soon as and Fishtrap Virginia.'  
She looked at the ornate clock on the wall, her shift was ending and the day was young. 'Yeah, sure, I'll be there in a few hours.'  
'Thanks!' he sounded relieved.  
'We're staying in a Motel off Main Street, called the GoodRest.'  
She hung up, stuffed the phone back in her pocket and called to the owner. 'Abe? I'm off now, see ya next week.'   
A grunt answered her from behind a hand of cards and a haze of pipe smoke. She went out the back door, hopping onto the fire-escape and climbing up to her flat on the third floor. Her tiny balcony, more of a window ledge really, caged with scrolls of cast iron and painted a dark blue, was cluttered with pot plants. Half dead pot plants, she thought of it as her garden of good intentions. Her Dad would lament her lack of green fingers, if they had spoken to each other in the past decade.   
She stepped carefully over a leaf cutter bee that had been building a hive between the roses and the lavender, and went in through her window. She packed quickly, locked the window and called Crowley.  
'I'd like to cash in on a favour please and thank you.'   
He was suddenly before her, phone still to his ear.  
'Oh?' he asked. His immaculate suit was cut from fine wool, lined with violet silk, it looked terribly out of place in front of her Mucus Membrane poster.   
She hung up, perfectly at ease in his presence. 'A lift to a place called Fishtrap Virginia, please?'  
He pretended to think about it before snapping his hands and dropping her there.  
'Why here?'  
'To help out your adorable plaid buddies.'  
He frowned at that, put a hand on her arm. 'I don't want you messing around with them, they're dangerous.'  
'I'm dangerous.' she countered with an almost smile that was just for him. He sighed, dramatically and vanished.  
Crowley had left her on the outskirts of the town, she walked in, wishing she had a warmer pair of socks, winter had arrived early here and the town seemed to be fashioned entirely from frost. The motel was set back from the road, it had a distinctly 50's feel to it with a hand painted sign that currently advertised rooms, with colour tv, for 20 dollars a night.  
Out of habit she flicked her eyes around, noting the exits, the shadows, the cover. It wasn't ideal, her Dad would have mocked her endlessly for picking this as a safe place. Mocked her after he had finished hitting her, she thought, ruefully. He hadn't been the best of parents.  
She spotted the godawful muscle car at the end of the row, farthest from the check in, and knocked on the sturdy door. 

'That was fast.' Dean looked around the lot and beckoned her in. His lanky brother was tapping away on a black laptop, his kind eyes crinkled in a smile when she waved.  
'So, whats up then?'   
The twin room held a sagging couch, last upholstered in the 1970's by the smell of it and two narrow beds, made up with checkered green covers. She sat on the nearest bed and waited patiently for the pair to begin. The table and most of the floor space was covered in printouts, notes and weapons, as Dean turned away from her she noticed a handgun stuffed into his waistband.  
'It's some sort of, I dunno, enchantment.' Sam began.  
She took off her jacket, slid off her boots and pulled her legs up under her. From the volume of paper they had burned through she assumed it wasn't one they had encountered before.  
Dean sat heavily on the couch, a heavy looking knife in his hand, which he used to gesture with. 'People are going nuts!'   
'Then they disappear.' Sam went on, turning away from his screen.  
'It's like, I'm not sure, we've never seen anything like it.'  
'Cool. Come on, give me juicy details.' she tried to tone down her harsh smile for these strangers, it probably didn't work. Harshness was part of her.   
'So, people go missing, not a word, but before they go their families say they got real defensive.' Sam explained, gathering papers into a pile beside him.  
'Vicious. And kinda nuts. They start acting out.' Dean went on, he had taken a packet of beef jerky from his bag and was munching on this as he spoke.  
'Nesting in dark rooms, not interacting with their friends, sleeping most of the day. That kind of nuts.' Sam finished.  
'Nesting like monsters or like animals?' she looked between them, noting their silent interactions. A nod, a look, a slight movement, they spoke with their bodies. She wondered which one had suggested calling her, and how long they had been at this to decide that they needed help.   
Sam chewed his lip, pushing thick brown hair back from his forehead. 'We, eh, don't know.'  
'Yet!' Dean pressed.  
Dean was the elder of the pair, he was shorter too, but only by comparison to Sam. They were both tall, but Sam was a giant. Dean had dark blonde hair, in contrast to Sam, and green eyes, where Sam's were brown, but they had a similarly chiseled face. Dean's chin a little more narrow, Sam's cheeks a little more sharp. If Hunting didn't work out for them they could make a killing as strippers.   
She stored that away, smirking to herself, though she knew her face was blank. She was very good at keeping up a mask around people that she didn't know. It was necessary.  
Sam opened his notebook, the page was marked with a pen. 'We only just got here from another job, that one seemed to lead to this.'  
'Feeling burned out?'  
Sam nodded, a dark look in his eyes. She didn't really know these people, but she could tell he was exhausted. He seemed drained next to his older brothers bursts of nervous energy.  
Dean groaned, stretching. 'You research, I'm gonna get chow. Whose hungry?'  
Temperance stood up. 'I'll go with you, I've been inside all day.'  
They hurried down the chilly street, Dean popped his collar against the cold and lead the way back into the small town centre. 'So, um, you're half, you know.' he began.  
'Yes' she flicked her grey eyes over him. Waiting for the questions, waiting for the judgement. Another reason not to get friendly, she hated this particular discussion and all the secrets and shame that went with it.   
'Is that how you know Crowley?'  
She shook her head. 'Coincidence. He didn't know until I told him. I'm, em, good at staying off the radar.'  
By absolute necessity she was well warded by more than just the stamps she put on her arms to stay hidden.  
'Yeah?'  
'My dad taught me how, I've been on my own pretty much since I was a teenager.' she shrugged, he didn't need to know anymore than that, and they ducked into a diner.   
'Our dad was a hunter, he brought us up in it.' Dean explained. He frowned down at her as she eyed the menu. She could feel the weight of that frown.  
'You don't act like a Demon.' he said, after she gave in and looked up.  
'What do they act like?' she asked, mildly, flipping to the burger page of the greasy booklet.   
He cleared his throat, she heard his feet shuffle on the tiles floor as he angled himself towards the door. She had that effect on people. They saw her and wanted to run.  
'Touched a nerve, huh? Didn't figure you for a sensitive type.'  
She straightened up and turned around, her eyes flickered, filling with smoke, black and billowing, until she had brilliant dark orbs gazing out form her human face. It happened most when she was angry, or high, that part of herself always managed to work insidious way to the surface.   
'Sensitive?' in a blink she was back to human, no trace of hellfire as she wound back in her Demon. The waitress came over, bouncing on pink trainers.   
'Three burgers, please.' she spoke, bored already.  
'And fries.' Dean said 'And a chocolate shake, and a six pack of Sam Adams.'  
'He's paying.' Temperance said, to the nodding teenager.  
A silence fell between them, cutting them off from each other. They went back to the room, where Sam was frowning at his keyboard. He accepted the burger with a nod. His brother, who had finished the milkshake on the walk home, opened a beer with his belt buckle and sank into the couch.   
'All the witnesses say the houses had spiderwebs in the the victims rooms, big ones. So its gotta be a monster, not a spell.' Sam spoke around his dinner.  
'Cobwebs. Thick ones?' Temperance mused.   
'Yeah.'   
'So, they bundled themselves in the dark and their rooms were full of spiders. Sounds like my flat.'  
Dean snorted, grudgingly opened a beer and handed it to her. She took it with a nod, her burger abandoned in the bag beside her.   
'And they got angry, vicious?' she pressed.  
'When anyone intruded on 'em.' Dean said, looking at his brother for confirmation.  
'My knowledge is the wrong side of the Ocean for this. Spiders in Northern Europe are grand, like.'  
'Grand? Big?' Sam asked, looking confused.  
'No, sorry, I mean good. Benign. Not a bother.' she drank her beer, picking at the label with a painted nail.   
'Yeah, bunch of pansy ass European's couldn't handle the shit we got here.' Dean snorted.  
Temperance flicked her eyes at him, but didn't rise to his jibe.   
'Folklore on them isn't evil, usually. Theres Arachne, the greek weaver, she was mother of the spiders and Neth, I think, was the same type of thing in Egypt.'  
Sam who had been nodding along jumped in here, explaining the links from Neth to Ishtar and Arachne. His kind face animated as he gave them all history lesson. He was good at making connections, and clearly very well read. Dean butted in as he rambled on. 'Yeah, great, how does this help?'  
Temperance shot him an irritated look, but Sam admitted, reluctantly .'I guess it doesn't'.  
Night closed in around them, bringing snow down in a light fall. The food was finished, the beer was drank, and they were still no closer to a solution.  
'Oh!' Temperance who had been spread out on the floor sat up suddenly.   
'Spider people! It's not a spell, it's reproduction!'  
'Huh?” Dean raised his head, groggily from his pillow. He had fallen into a doze.  
'I reckon theres one female, all the people missing are guys, yeah?”  
Sam nodded, slowly.  
'Its a Yokai, a Japanese spider spirit. She's making mates. All we have to do is find her lair.' Temperance explained.  
'Killing her will free the rest?' Dean was standing now, he slapped his face to clear his head, ready for action.   
Temperance didn't answer, she shrugged, an ugly look on her face. 'Maybe.'  
'Come on, your a Hunter, you gotta be used to death?' Dean said, guessing at her discomfort.  
He was close to the mark, killing her would free the rest from the curse, but they would all die too. She shook her head, her voice low. 'I'm not a Hunter. I'm a killer, big difference.'  
Dean chuckled as if she had told a bad joke and Sam frowned at her in silence. She met his serious brown eyes, offering him nothing. 

The morning was cold and calm, the town looked like a postcard under its dusting of snow and ice. Children, padded out in cold weather gear, trooped through the street to school and the trio went searching.  
Dean pestered his brother, in a motherly way, getting him to wear a hat and scarf and buying him coffee to keep warm. In the cold light Sam looked ill, there were bags under his eyes like he hadn't been sleeping.  
'Where do spiders live, besides under beds and up in corners?' she asked, deciding not to pry.  
'Um, the back of larders? Storerooms? Garden sheds?' Sam reeled off. They were walking around, looking for inspiration, the library had given them a few local legends, but nothing on Spiders.  
'How would a Japanese spirit even get here?' Dean asked, gesturing to the old fashioned town around them.  
'Global village, man.' Temperance shrugged, nothing was localised anymore.  
'Huh' Dean stopped on the pavement and turned to his brother.  
'Didn't the first guy have a furniture restoration job?' he asked  
'Yeah, he sold internationally! You thinking he had a workshop?'  
'Lets find out!' Dean grinned, his green eyes excited.   
Temperance was suddenly reminded of guy she knew, an exorcist, he got that same look in his eyes when he was working. The thrill of the job had a high all of its own. It was a rush that she felt, sometimes, not from Hunting though. She felt that way when she was playing music, but it had been a long while since she had done that.  
The first victim had gone missing almost six months ago, his wife had moved away to her family in the West, leaving the small house to go wild. Temperance opened the bathroom window and managed to wiggle through and let the others in the front door. Dean had recommended breaking in the back door, but her way was less messy.   
The house was carpeted in dust, and hastily packed boxes leaned against the bare walls. Dean touched a silky spiderweb dangling from the kitchen light.   
'Split up.' he said, an order, his tone brooked no trespasses.   
Temperance nodded and went up the narrow stairs, the bedroom and bathroom were empty, save for a few forgotten articles of clothing, a bottle of shampoo and a toothbrush. The only other room was dark and dank, her nostrils flared at the stench. Stale and rotting, she flicked on her torch.  
'Oh, fuck me. Guys!'  
The room had been intended for a nursery, a cot, half built, rested in one corner. The space was full of thick, grey, cobwebs and dust rested heavily on the sticky strands. In the centre of the chaos was a body. A woman's body, or what was left of it.

'Ugh!' Sam reeled away, clapping a hand over his mouth.  
'So, she didn't go to her family.' Dean said, dispassionately.  
Temperance trained her light up the walls, a horrible sense of foreboding, the webs on the door had snapped when she opened it.  
'Run!' she ordered. They turned and darted down the stairs, scrabbling for the fresh air. What ever was in there had been in there when she opened the door, was possibly still in there. Sam kicked the door closed, brushing the back of his neck and shuddering.  
'I hate spiders!'  
Dean hurried them down the street and rounded a corner at the end of the lot.  
'Ok. Here's the plan, Sam go to the motel, get the car. Tem and I will watch and make sure it doesn't come out. Get lots of gasoline, we're gonna burn that place down.'   
Sam jogged away, his long legs carrying him quickly down the road.  
'Tem?' she asked.  
'What, you don't do nicknames?' he gestured her to crouch by the low wall and they made their way around the house, to the back gate.  
'I've had a few, but Tem is a new one.'  
'What's Crowley call you?' he asked, sounding genuinely curious despite the peril.  
'Darling, usually. ' she put a hand on his arm and jerked him down behind a shrub as a shadow scuttled through the house.   
'Something in the window.'  
'I'm gonna check it out' he loosened his knife in its sheath and hurried forward. She kept her eyes on him, he reached the pale, lemon coloured, shingles and put a hand on the sill. In an instant he was gone, before he could shout, dragged beneath the building by something horrible and hairy.  
'Dean!' she jumped up, stupidly. She felt the smallest sting in her arm, a flash of warm pain and then.

It was dark, she couldn't move and her head was pounding. Exploring her body she found a throbbing wound on her bicep, and an ache in her knees from something strong and inflexible digging into her skin. She took a breath, carefully raised her head and saw Dean, bound in a silverly something, barely a meter away. He was awake, just about, eyes unfocused.  
'You hurt?' she asked, straining to free her arms.  
'Spiders.' he said, slurring his words.  
She wondered how much time had passed, her mind was too fuzzy to puzzle through it. They needed to get free and get outside, she could focus on that.  
'Dean, snap out of it.' she pulled against the restraints, uselessly. The venom in the sting had dulled her senses, she felt uncharacteristically slow. With a shudder she tired to let her Demon out, power bloomed, sluggishly, in her chest.  
The creature came into view, seeming to bulge out from the shadows. It almost looked like a woman, almost. Pincers clacked before her humanoid face, multifaceted eyes glittering like tiny red stars and then huge arachnid legs followed the nightmarish body.   
'Shit' Temperance rolled her shoulders, concentrating. The other side of herself was always there, just a blink away, but under the pull of that ancient magic it took effort to call up. The spider moved with weird grace over the concrete, its spindly legs tapping, hollowly, in the cavernous space. She reached Temperance, bending an almost human torso to bring her eyes level with her bound prey.   
Temperance, strangely graceful herself, kicked violently free of her bonds and sank her foot into the creatures unprotected belly. It shrieked reeling backwards and slashing out with sharp claws. Temperance felt a deep cut open on her scalp and a lock of hair tumbled onto her lap. She was still too slow.  
Snarling she pulled her hand from the sticky web and flicked a knife at the monster. It clanged off a metal paneled wall in the distance as the spider dodged it with pathetic ease.   
'Dean! Wake up!' Temperance roared, ripping herself free and jumping to her feet. In a strange state from the venom she moved too quickly, giving over too much control to the Demon part of herself, which was struggling for dominance. She felt delirious, like she was blind drunk and couldn't coordinate her limbs.  
Her body was always at war with itself. She steadied her feet and looked around. Her black eyes saw better then her human ones, she easily followed their captor in the gloom, keeping it before her, never turning her back as she hurried to Dean and tore open the web holding him down. He sat up, sluggishly, she grabbed him under the arm pits and pulled him towards the door.   
He was a dead weight, sweating and muttering weakly as they moved, but she was more than strong enough to bare him.  
It was like a nightmare, the scurrying of too many feet, the click of huge, sharp pincers. She could smell old blood and venom in the air, it seemed to get stronger with each step. Shit. Looking up sharply she threw Dean aside, just in time to get him free of another set of snapping pincers.  
Her legs buckled beneath her as the great weight of a second spider came crashing down. Fresh venom burned in her bloodstream as something pierced her shoulder.   
This creature was a male, more human then its mate, she threw it away from her with a surge of anger and heard the sickening thud as its spine crunched around a beam.   
Blinking away blood she tried to stay on her feet. She felt sick, cold and exhausted. She tore two more knives from her sleeves, and stood in a wide stance over the struggling Hunter. She only had these two knives left, taking stock, she tried to find a weapon amongst the gloom. It was a garage, a workshop, a few mallets and chisels were hung around the walls.  
'Come on bitch!' she called, slurring her words.   
Dean, coming more fully awake, looked up and groaned. His arms shook as he pushed himself to his knees.  
'What?' he got to his feet, shaking  
She thrust him back towards the door, staying in front of him. Disjointed legs moved on the floor, things rusted unnaturally in the dark.  
'Go!'  
They tumbled into the cool, crisp daylight, the building looked abandoned and was overgrown with weeds. A laser cut sign for antique restoration lay against one wall.  
'Spiders.' she said, turning aside as a wave of nausea made her shiver. She tottered back, retching, the venom wasn't playing well with her power, everything was fighting inside her and she broke out in a cold sweat.  
Dean helped her up, though he pulled away sharply when he looked into her face. She knew her eyes were black, she knew because she could see so well with them.  
'How do we kill them?' he asked.  
'From a distance, preferably.'   
He swallowed, grimly, pulled out his phone and called Sam, giving their location. Sam tore into the lot a few minutes later, grey faced. He looked as bad as Temperance felt.   
'Shit, what happened?'  
'Giant spider things' Dean explained, opening the trunk and pulling out a few cans of gasoline.   
'Torch it?'  
Sam nodded and rushed to help him, hammering the door shut with debris that was on hand. When the flame took hold a horrible screeching filled their ears, long hairy legs forced their way between the boarded up window and cracked door. Temperance looked away, she had enough horrific thoughts without adding this.  
When the screaming had stopped, when the creatures were dead, she felt the venom in her system burn away. Dean must have felt something similar because he stood straighter, shaking his head, experimentally. They watched the fire rage for a moment, the intense heat made the frost on the ground melt into a slick puddle under their feet.  
'Lets go. Before the cops show up.' Dean urged, herding them to the car.  
They drove to Town and pilled into the nearest bar, just in time to see the fire-brigade speeding by. Sam ordered drinks, and squeezed his brothers shoulder when he sat down. Temperance watched from her side of the table, an unreadable expression on her face.  
'You saved my life.' Dean said, not meeting her eyes.   
'No problem, really, you bought me that burger, so we're even.'  
He snorted a laugh and shoved his hands in his pockets 'You wanna stick with us, we're heading South anyway, can drop you off wherever you need.'  
She looked between them, picked up her bottle and tasted the flat larger. 'Sure'


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'You!' a screech and a flash of light and Temperance found herself across the floor, her head bouncing off the bathroom door. Lights popped before her eyes, a dull, echoing ache rumbled in her head from the blow. Blinking back the pain she saw that Dean was being held by the throat, her mothers hot pink nails biting into his flesh.  
> 'Mother! Put him down!'' Temperance, struggled to her feet, eyes flickering as she tried to reset a fractured bone in her shoulder.
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Story bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form all comments are welcome.

The car was a black 1967 Chevrolet Impala. It had an impressive arsenal in the boot and Temperance could feel a strangely angelic warding coming off it that she hadn't noticed the first time.   
Dean always drove, he seemed a little touchy about anyone else doing it and more than a little jittery about having her as a passenger. Sometimes she would find his eyes fastened on her in the rearview mirror, full of distrust and she had to shut down the urge to dive out the door and run.   
After two days in the back on this car, Temperance decided she needed to get home and away from them. They were not telling her something, that much was clear, and though they were both outwardly polite she felt that they didn't want to relax around her. They worked their way South, Sam looking up promising mysteries on his laptop when he wasn't dozing in the passenger seat.   
'Anything but more classic rock.' she begged one evening as Dean put on a Motley Cru CD.   
'Hey! My car, my rules, and besides it ain't classic, it's current, it's cool!' Dean smacked her hand from the dial   
'It was bang on trend in the mid 80's.' she countered sitting back with a roll of her eyes.   
'Like hairspray.' Sam muttered, meeting her eyes in the mirror a glimmer of mirth in his small smile.   
'Don't make me complain about young people having no taste.' Dean grumbled, then he paused with a hand on the dial.   
'How old are you anyway?' he asked.  
This was the other conversation she hated having with people. 'I'm 30 this year.'  
'What?' Dean turned around, perplexed. He brought the car to a stop on the quiet road.  
'How come you look?' he began to ask, but a silky voice cut him off.   
'Like a teenager?'  
The brothers jumped as Crowley bent down at the open window. She didn't smile, didn't laugh, it wasn't something she liked thinking about.  
'I stopped ageing, sort of, I can get older if I think about it.' she said, opening the door to get to her friend.  
Dean pulled a a face, unbuckling his seatbelt, Temperance slid out of the car and wrapped her arms around the Demon,she saw Sam and Dean share a bewildered look at that.  
'Hello you!' she said, playfully.  
'Darling.' he smiled.  
'You didn't text me back.'  
He rolled his eyes and made a show of brushing down his suit. 'I was busy.'   
He let her go and turned to scowl at the brothers.  
'Why haven't you been home?' he demanded.  
'We're on our way.' Dean shrugged.  
'Well hurry up! I need assistance and you owe me, remember?' he snapped.  
'Whats wrong?' Temperance touched the back of his hand and he turned, tension dropping from him as if it had never been there.  
'Nothing, darling, really.' he purred, lying through his teeth.  
'Right. Whatever.' She knew him far too well to believe him and could only shake her head at the thought that whatever the brothers were hiding, Crowley was hiding from her too.  
The three men argued, pretending not to argue. She couldn't hear anything so she assumed that Crowley had warded the conversation against eavesdropping. Sam looked more grim as they spoke, he seemed to droop on his feet.   
Something kind, something she always denied, rose up in her throat. She hoped he was alright. Not that she knew him to care, not that she wanted to care, but she was worried the guy was getting sick. Seriously sick.  
Temperance resorted to scrolling through her phone while they spoke in their huddle and looked up when boots stomped on the pavement towards her. The car rocked as Dean threw open the driver door and angrily turned the key. Sam had vanished with Crowley.  
The bastard could have given her a lift home, she frowned at the empty place where they had been.

'You ok?' she asked Dean.  
'I'm fine!' he spat, throwing the motor into drive.   
Yes, he definitely sounded fine and fucking dandy, she thought, putting her phone into her pocket and watching his face contort in the mirror.  
'Your BFF is just great to be around.' his voice gravelly with dislike.   
'Never owe a Demon a favour.' she said, ignoring his anger. She didn't want to get involved in this, whatever this was, she wanted to go back to her place, listen to decent music and have a drink.  
He looked at her in the mirror, his green eyes hard and angry. 'Great advice, Cambion, how can I get all of you out of my life, huh?'  
Cambion, the children of mortals and Demons. Monsters. She met his gaze, her kohl rimmed eyes resolutely human, but anger boiled beneath them. 'Ask nicely, Hunter.' her voice deadpan, low and even.   
'Ask nicely, huh? Must try that. What do you get from it? Another favour, another way to worm into our lives and fuck shit up?'  
'What the fuck crawled down your throat and died?' she growled back at him, her own anger bubbling to the surface. She didn't know this man, this Hunter, she didn't like him nor did she care what shit he had gotten into with Crowley.   
The beauty of having a Demon for a mother and being raised by a killer, she didn't particularly buy into the good and evil view point that Hunters clung to. She judged people on their actions and in that moment, Dean Winchester, was acting like a dick.  
'Oh, I ain't dead. I'm human, I'm not some smoke monster taking over peoples bodies killing for fucking fun, tryna' end the goddamn world every day!' he spat, his face flushed, nostrils flaring with rage.  
She gave him a blank stare, holding herself back, the silence stretched. He opened his mouth to speak, perhaps regretting his outburst, and she opened the door and left.  
'Hey!' he called, scurrying after her.  
'Go fuck yourself.' she turned and walked down the road, thumbing a lift from a trucker going south who cheerfully left her off in Nashville. From there she hopped on a train and after too long, she got to her flat and opened the door.  
She dropped her jacket on the ground, stepped out of her jeans, slung off her bra and fell face first onto her rumpled bed.  
Dean was right, she was a monster, just not in the way that he thought. She was a monster, she knew that, she had been told often enough and she felt the truth of it in her bones. She knew what she was, but it had nothing to do with being half Demon, she was a monster for plenty of other reasons.  
Fingering the scar on her neck she tried to shake the image of his disgust from her head. She didn't sleep very well, she turned off her phone and threw up her wards, staying away from everyone and everything, until she could look at herself again.

Temperance went back to her usual routine, she worked, she stayed away from people and she tried not to draw the attention of any beasts lurking in the dark. After her shift in the bar she would play music and drink, alone, in her tiny room, or she would drink alone in a bar full of people. Crowley would pop by and make her eat or to tempt her away from New Orleans to plays and cultural outings. He called these her educational tours and had been cheerfully forcing her into museums and lectures for years.  
They were in Madrid, at a bullring, the May sun shinning down on the gory spectacle.   
'This is a bit gross.' she pointed out.  
Crowley waved this comment away. 'You eat meat, and you like funny hats, look, plenty of funny hats here.'  
She smiled gently, 'I prefer my dinner not tortured.'   
That brought an evil smirk to his face. 'How dull.'  
He hadn't spoken to her about the brothers, she wondered if he was waiting for her to ask.  
'So, how are the American dream boats?'   
That smile fell and he turned away, icily. 'Bothersome.' he looked at her from the corner of his eye, as she toyed with the straw in her cheap sangria. She knew he was uncomfortable.  
'I take it you didn't become bosom chums?'  
'They are not fond of Demons, but, sure, who is?' her voice low, but she nudged him, smirking in a way that would let him know she was very fond of Demons. Crowley was not as difficult to read as he wanted to be, she could tell he was more than a little jealous of her getting new friends. The prick.   
'You're not even a real Demon.' he scoffed, then covered her hand with his own and, with a snap, brought them to one of his apartments. A glance out the window told her it was London, near the Monument tube station. One of his more normal places, it was as un-extravagant as he could dare to be.   
'Don't worry love, they will be out of my life soon enough.' he continued, as if they hadn't zapped across Europe.  
She dropped her sunglasses on the chrome and glass side table and asked, curiously. 'Are you going to kill them?'  
'No!' he snorted, bending down to find a bottle of whiskey. He examined the label and poured two generous measures. She was happy to see it wasn't his usual Craig, she hated Scotch and he knew it.  
'They will kill themselves soon enough, the road they're on.'   
He cut a good figure, expensive suit, expensive apartment, probably expensive booze. A person might mistake him for a well-to-do business man, rather than a self made King of Hell. He had been around a long, long time, he had seen a lot. She had no idea why he wanted to be her friend, but was extremely glad that he did.   
'Humans.' she said, smiling, just for him.  
'Hunters.' he held out a glass, which she took.   
She knew that he liked how comfortable she was in his presence, it was refreshing, still, for him not be feared or derived. She just existed there, as a friend, kindly, and drank his fancy whiskey. She looked down into the glass as a sweet, smokey taste burst over her tongue.  
'Its Japanese.' he explained, rolling his eyes at her lack of interest in the complex flavours.   
'Do you want to break into the palace?' she set the glass down, empty, having knocked it back.  
'Oh!' he grinned, rubbing his hands together, like the villain that he was.  
'Haven't done that in a while!'

Summer had struggled to take hold this year, it was damp far longer than Temperance approved of. It was while contemplating this, late in May, that she decided to move again. She spent all day throwing things away and packed her battered car with the things she wanted to keep, a cello, a few photos, a old poster, her jacket. She fell into bed in the early hours of the morning, half undressed.  
A sharp tap of a heeled boot on creaking planks woke her up, some hours later. Very few people could get in here without breaching her wards, she could count them on one hand, on one finger actually.  
'Mammy?' Temperance sighed, cracking open. A head of vivid red hair and blood red lips swooped down with a waft of Hellfire.   
'Baby what did you do to your hair!.' Her mother looked out at her from a new face. A younger face then she had worn when Temperance had last seen her.  
Temperance had sat up, stretched, ran a hand through her shorn locks. She had shaved off one side, and her skull was coated in soft dark stubble.  
'It's punk.' she insisted.  
'It is not.'   
'Split ends.' she admitted, rubbing sleep from her eyes.   
Her body was human, regardless of her blood and while she didn't technically need to eat she had a habit of decaying when she didn't. She could live, but her hair, skin and nails always showed those telltale signs of neglect. Crowley had been furious with her when he had seen it.   
Her mother pursed her lips and began to poke around her jumble of clothes, all of them being left behind. She held up a bloodstained dress to the light.  
'Oh honey bee, you get worse each year. What happened? Was it fun? Did people scream?'  
'Leeches, sort of, no.' she ticked off. Her mother wore a woman's flesh, pale skin, red hair and beautiful bright eyes. She appeared to be in her mid 30's, dressed like a kid at a rock concert.   
Abaddon, the last Knight of hell, leaned against the counter, looking down at her child.   
'Not working with that hedge magician again, I hope?' her mothers eyes flickered to black, a scowl interrupting the far too young face she had on. She had never approved of any of Temperance's friends, or lovers, or enemies for that matter and held her ex boyfriend in particular animosity.   
'No.' She, looked away, pulled on her jumper. That hedge magician, a mage, an exorcist from England, had fucked off months ago.  
'He dumped me. I met two new human lads, worked a job with them and probably wont see them again.'  
'Why? Were they not handsome, rich and charming?'  
'Bit species-ist.' Temperance went to the kettle and flicked it on. Her mother pulled two tea cups out of the press and set them down, smiling.  
'Can I ask what brings you here?'  
'I've been slightly indisposed.' Abaddon's tone was flippant and she examined her gleaming fingernails rather than meet her daughter's eyes.  
'I thought you were ignoring me, even the locater spell wouldn't pin you down.' Temperance frowned, it was a hard truth that her mother was incapable of love, but she still kept in touch. The three year absence had hurt.  
'Never, baby. Some awful Hunters chopped me up and kept me bound planet side.'  
Temperance put down her mug, tea untasted. 'Fuck! Who were they?'  
'Oh, nothing you could have done. I wouldn't want you around them.' she brushed her daughters unwashed hair aside and kissed her temple.   
'My little girl should stay away from Hunters.'   
'Too right.' she murmured. The righteous bunch would probably end up killing her, one day. She wanted to ask what had happened, to her mother, how she had escaped, why hadn't Temperance heard that she had been captured. Before she could broach the subject once more there was a knock on the door.  
They both looked at it, both frowned. In her brief residence only two people used the front door, one of them was dead and the other might as well be. Her mother knew her well enough to know that she didn't have friend.  
Temperance opened it, with some trepidation, slipping on a pair of silver tipped brass knuckles and all but shoving the powerful greater Demon behind her.  
Dean Winchester was shuffling on the dim stairs, his golden-brown hair was shorter than it had been, recently cut and he looked very uncomfortable. His hands were shoved into the pockets of a green cargo jacket, out of sight and he had a strained look on his face.  
'Hi?' he began, before a gasp burst from his lips as his eyes flicked past her, into the apartment, towards her mother.  
'You!' a screech and a flash of light and Temperance found herself across the floor, her head bouncing off the bathroom door. Lights popped before her eyes, a dull, echoing ache rumbled in her head from the blow. Blinking back the pain she saw that Dean was being held by the throat, her mothers hot pink nails biting into his flesh.  
'Mother! Put him down!'' Temperance, struggled to her feet, eyes flickering as she tried to reset a fractured bone in her shoulder.  
Abaddon threw the man aside with a snarl, where he crumpled to the floor. She rounded on her daughter   
'This is your new friend! Your new Hunter! This is what you've become, preying on your own kind! He chopped me up!'  
Temperance raised her hands to defuse the situation, when her mother she slapped her, it hurt a little but she didn't stumble. Abaddon had never raised a hand to her, she had never so much as shouted at her before this.   
As Temperance's thoughts tried to catch up with the fact, the Demon Knight of Hell, more powerful than any other under Lilith and Lucifer, dropped her hand back down, suddenly looking worried.  
'Get out.' Temperance didn't ask, something inside her was bouncing around, her power making her her blood sing. Rip, tear, taste. No one got to hit her, no one, not ever again. Never.   
She grit her teeth against the urge to fight back and with unerring grace she put herself between the man and her mother.   
Abaddon was taller than her, in her high heeled boots and she seemed to grow taller, swelling with anger, her worry long gone. It wasn't right, it couldn't be right, this thing wasn't her mother, this creature was crazy. She glittered with anger, with insanity. It couldn't be her mother.  
'No' Abaddon sneered, bending over her child.  
Temperance raised her chin and squared her shoulders, she had a choice, she had to make a choice. Demon or Hunter, mother or stranger.   
Dean, who had captured and hurt her mother, had half risen, blood was tricking down his jaw from a nasty looking cut.  
'I will banish you.' Temperance warned, raising a scar riddled hand. She needed to separate them, before someone died.  
'Banish your own mother?' Abaddon's eyes sparkling.   
Temperance thought for a beat, then kicked her. The force of it sent the Demon crashing over the low railing and into the kitchen. Working with the tools she had to hand, mainly Dean's blood, she wrote a ward on the floor. Her head snapped up, meeting her mothers ferocious eyes as the woman extracted herself from the broken rail.  
'Mam.' she warned.  
'Dare ya.' A bloody tongue licked red lips, fingers flexing as she crouched, ready to pounce.  
Temperance spoke the word of command, in the language of Angles, the Enocian chant burnt her tongue, and touched her palm to the ward. Her mother vanished in a flicker of bright yellow light, and rush of wind.  
The apartment was eerily silence, Temperance stood up, kicked the door closed and turned on Dean, fury radiating off every inch of her. He had hurt her mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I know, major plot divergence! Suspend your disbelief, dear reader :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'What does Crowley even do for fun? Dinner, movies, torture?' Dean made a face, trying to imagine Crowley being anything other than a total douche.   
> Temperance bit her lip, holding back another smile. 'Just ordinary things.' she said, laughter in her voice.... 
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

He looked up at her in shocked silence, panic made his mind go blank. Abaddon had been here, she had been about to kill him and Temperance stopped her.  
'What?' she demanded. Her glare took in his wound, which was bleeding freely down his face. Scowling she crossed the floor and found a small first aid kit among the wreckage. 'C'mere to me.'

He shuffled forward, turned his face to the light. She held his chin and doused the cut in whiskey, the bottle somehow surviving the destruction, before slapping a dinosaur sticking-plaster over it. She eyed the mark critically.   
'It wont scar, much.'  
'Um?' he stood, looked around the tiny studio, the sharp sting of the booze began to fade to an itch and he tried to gather his thoughts.  
That Demon, of all the Demon's in Hell, why did it have to be her.  
Temperance waited fro him to speak and drank from the bottle, she wiped the lip on her jumper and pressed it into his hands. It smelled sharp, oily and he winced as he swallowed it.  
'So, uh. I came to apologise, but, what the fuck just happened?'  
'My mother was visiting, you showed up at a bad time. Call, in future.' she took back the whiskey, necked the remaining spirit and placed the bottle down, with a clunk, in the sink.  
Her mother, her goddamed mother! He resisted the urge to groan.  
'Your mother is Abaddon? The Knight of Hell?' he closed his eyes, waiting, his heart knocking uncomfortably against his ribs.  
'Scourge of the light and shield barer of Lucifer himself, yeah, thats Mammy.'  
He frowned at that and scrubbed a hand through his hair. Why the heck was he getting himself involved in this. She spoke before he could organise his thoughts, her voice bored once more.   
'She's been banished, but she will be back, so, you should leave. Unless you don't particularly like being alive.'  
It was an odd turn of phrase and he rolled it around in his head before asking, 'What about you?'  
'What about me?' her grey eyes were hard, unyielding.  
'You gonna wait around for her?' he watched her thoughts skitter away, she was taking in the ruin of her house without really seeing it. Her posture was a little too casual when she shrugged and said.  
'I don't particularly like being alive.'  
He didn't buy that for a second. Why had she saved him, she must know what he and Sam had done. He took a deep breath, she was Abaddon's kid, but she was Crowley's best friend and those two were at each others throats right now. Was she some sort of spy, or, shit, he didn't know. He shook his head.  
'Why did you help me?'  
Her face was a careful mask, but he saw her hand shake as she palmed a set of knuckle dusters. She seemed to be wondering the same thing.   
'She would have killed you. Blood's hard to clean up.'  
'It aint that hard, not as hard as fighting a Knight of Hell.' he watched carefully, waiting from some slip, for something human to break through.  
She swallowed, finally raising her eyes back to his.   
'You hurt her.'  
'Yeah, I did and I'd do it again. She tried to kill me and my brother, she killed my grandfather years ago and came after us. I don't feel bad about it.'  
'You couldn't kill her so you ripped her into pieces.' Temperance's gaze was level.  
'Yes.' he spoke harshly.  
'I didn't want her to hurt you, I didn't want to have to watch.'  
He was stumped by that, she had shrugged, poked at the rubble around her feet and put her head back down.  
'Thank you.'  
Another shrug at that, he saw her dark eyes flick towards her door.  
'Listen, um. Look' he crossed the floor, held out a hand.  
She took it, slowly, maybe a little uncertainly, not a trace of the stone cold bitch who had protected him from a Demon.  
'Thanks for helping out last time and I am sorry about, you know, what I said. I came here to apologies but also to ask you something. My brother and I were wondering if you wanted to work with us.'  
'With you?' she asked, incredulously as her mask dropped.  
'Full time.' he clarified, a ghost of a smile pulled his lips up. She was wrapped up in this weather she knew it or not, if he got her on side he might be able to stop Crowley turning on him and Sam.  
Her left brow arched up. 'We barely know each other.'  
'You can hold your own against a greater demon, hell, you can hold your own against anything.'  
'Yes.' she agreed.  
'So, yes? You wanna stay with us, work with us?'   
'Do you trust me?' her voice was even, but he could tell she was curious, tempted by the offer.  
He prayed this idea wouldn't come back to haunt him, they needed someone like her to help out, now that they had gotten themselves involved in some world ending shit, and Crowley had said she was strong.  
'I think so, yeah.' That wasn't a lie, not exactly, she had good Hunter instincts, he would trust her in a fight.  
'Your good.' he found himself compelled to say.  
Her eyes travelled over his face, flickering to her broken furniture and shattered window, resting just a beat longer on the flowers that were half dead on the window sill. 

'I don't really go for the whole good and evil thing, it's not how I was raised.' She explained, toeing aside splinters of kitchen cabinet.  
He snorted. 'Clearly, if your best friend is Crowley and your moms a Demon!'  
It was the first time he heard her laugh, a real, amused, laugh. Maybe not a happy one, but a laugh, a normal laugh. She was a person under there, under the eyeliner and hard angles. She looked nice when she laughed.  
Temperance didn't look like Abaddon, like the person the Demon had stolen. Abaddon had a good body, if Dean didn't know what she was he would hit on her. He surreptitiously eyed Temperance up, as she picked up bits and pieces from the floor, there was something about her that was kinda hot too. Something below the surface, he wondered what she looked like around other people, normal people.  
She pierced him, with that hard stare, he thought for a moment she must have read his mind and flushed, looking away.   
'I'm a Demon.' she said, pointing to her chest.  
'Half.' he scoffed, looking at the splintered kitchen.   
'Half.' she agreed.  
'Half monster.' this added as an after thought.  
'I, uh, I'm sorry about what I said in the car. Crowley just gets to me, and he was mad at us for hanging out with you, then he was mad for me going off on you like that.'  
'My mother will come after me, after you. She holds a grudge.'  
'Well, maybe you can talk her down?' he tried to pretend it didn't worry him.   
A part of him really wanted to ask about her dad. Who the hell would have had sex with Abaddon of their own free will. Whoever the guy was he must have trained Temperance as a Hunter, maybe he had found out after the kid was born, maybe that drove him to Hunting. Maybe like Dean, Temperance's life had been fucked up by a Demon.  
She bent to pick up a broken picture frame and shook the glass out onto the floor.  
'You want help cleaning up?'  
'You should leave.' she said, with a small sigh.  
'You should come with me. Look we got involved in some serious shit and we finally have a safe place to live and sort it out. Please, just, come stay a while and you can help out. It will be fun.'  
'Fun? I'm a terrible housemate.' she folded the picture and put it in her pocket. Two men he didn't know, a lanky woman in a tight waistcoat.  
'Oh?' he tired a smile, tried to be a bit charming. It usually worked.  
'I play the drums.' she held out her fingers to indicate this, tapping them in mid air.  
'Sweet!'  
'And the cello, and I cook with garlic, I drink, I hog the shower.' she ticked off.  
'Come on, you scared?' realising the truth of his words he dropped his smile and held out a hand. He thought she might need someone, someone human, she clearly wasn't taking care of herself, for all her power and know-how.  
'Come live with us, you can hog the shower all you want.'  
'You're on, classic rock.' and she winked. It was the first happy gesture he had seen from her since she appeared, high and jittering, with Crowley alongside. It meant more than her laugh had, he didn't think she would wink at many people, not that he knew her that well.  
He left her packing, gave her the address and hurried to his car, where his brother was sleeping in the front seat. He had never lived with anyone before, except Sam and his dad, it felt like a thing normal people did. Not that he was normal, not that she was even a little normal. He started the engine and drove in silence until the younger man woke up.  
'Huh?' he sat up, rubbing his neck.   
'What happened?'  
'She's moving in.' his brothers kind face crinkled a little. Sam had been cautious about her, not that he could blame him. Sam had enough Demon trouble to last a lifetime.  
'What? You don't like her?' Dean asked.  
'No, I think she's cool, but, Dean, we don't know her. What we're dealing with right now is big.' he had a lecturing tone on, turning against his seatbelt to look his brother full in the face.  
'You were supposed to ask for her help, not ask her to move in!'  
'Well, if she's there all the time she can help, easy.' he shrugged.  
'Something happened.' Sam's eyes narrowed.   
'Something you're not telling me.'  
'Yeah.' he pulled over, glancing around. He drummed his hands on the wheel a moment.  
'Um, Abaddon showed up and, uh, she's Temperance's mom.  
'What! Dean!' Sam half reached for him, half reached for the holy water they kept in the glovebox.  
'Temperance banished her.'  
That stopped Sam in his tracks, his mouth dropped open.  
'Yeah, I know.' Dean said, to his silence.  
'Ok, so she might be useful to have around.' Sam conceded.  
Dean nodded, he held out his fist, his brother sighed and copied the movement. Rock-paper-scissors. Dean won, paper beats rock.  
'See, we can use all the help we can get. She's strong, Ok? She powerful. It will be good to have her on the team.'  
'Who?' without a sound a man appeared in the back seat. He wore a pale trench-coat and neat dress shoes. Castiel, the Angel, as always had a politely confused look on his human face.  
'We're getting a new roommate. You'll like her.' Dean explained, pulling over.  
'Of course, I will try.' he nodded, solemnly.  
'She's, um, a Cambion.' Sam said with a little frown. 'Her mother is Abaddon.'  
'Abaddon has sired no heirs' He paused, looking puzzled.  
'None that we know of.'  
'Well, we know of this one.' Dean pointed out   
'I will look into it.' Castiel heaved a long suffering sigh. Dean knew from experience he was about to disappear again and asked, quickly.   
'Hey, think you could get us back home?'  
With a small play of light and a blur around their eyes the car bounced suddenly onto gravel, a whole country away from where they had been parked.  
'Sweet! 'Thanks Cas.'  
'You are most welcome. I must leave you, please be careful with the Cambion.' he tipped his head to the side and vanished.  
'Dean. I don't know if this is a great idea.' Sam continued as they made their way indoors.  
'Sure it is! 'Come on, help me clear out a room for her.' He waved away his brothers doubts, they needed help, he was big enough to admit that, and if having her on side meant Crowley was going to be more inclined to help them, well, that was a plus. 

She said she would call when she got to the town, it took a few days to drive from New Orleans without Angelic assistance. There was a low boom from a car engine as she pulled into the weedy lane that led to the garage. The orange body of the car was faded and scuffed, it sounded off, not neglected but clearly not driven well.  
Sam decided they should wait to tell her just what kind of shit they were in. He felt it was too big a thing to lay out, they didn't even know what they were up against yet. Dean agreed, reluctantly, his brother had a point and there was no need to show their hand, not just yet. It was enough that she was there, for now.  
She parked, slapped a hand on the roof of the car, fondly, and called it her much loved and much battered, internal combustion engine,   
'Emphasis on the battered.' she explained as she climbed out.  
It was a 70's Mitsubishi Colt, originally the colour of an old sunset and now faded to a murky pale brown. It was ugly, really ugly, Dean had seen a few in classic car magazines, but never in person, and never this beat up.  
'Crashed it once or twice. This thing is a tank.'  
As they helped her unload her scant possessions, amounting to one box, one bag and a cello, she stopped at the door, the toes of her doc martins right on the stone lip and frowned at the cement.   
'Its warded.'  
'What?' Dean looked back at her, then with a flush of embarrassment he remembered the magic in the foundations of this place.  
'Hold on.' she pulled out a silver knife, the handle was worn and wrapped round with blue grip tape. Before the brothers could ask she dragged the knife point over the back of her hand, carving a rune lightly on her skin. It seemed to glow, gently.  
'That will do for now.'  
Sam took her hand, watching the mark fade 'Is that Futhark? Old Norse?'  
'Yeah, I'll do a more permanent fix later.' she pulled her hand free, slipped the knife into her leather jacket.  
'I honestly forgot about that, come on, I'll show you around.' Dean waved a hand.  
'Is this a fucking war room?' she looked around at the old map table, the banks of electronics and phones that lined the walls.   
'The fuck is this place?'  
Sam laughed. 'Dean didn't tell you? Its the Bunker, a society of Hunters used it as a base. Its got everything, wards, magical library, a pretty decent kitchen too.'  
'Communal showers though' Dean aded  
'Told you, you can hog it all you like.'  
'Oh, very funny.' she smacked him in the gut with the back of her hand, lightly enough.  
After they showed her to her room, she offered to cook, Dean accepted with the enthusiasm of someone who rarely got home cooked meals and told her where the nearest grocery was.   
'See that car of hers?' he said to his brother when she was gone.   
'Baby could drive circles round that heap.'  
Sam rolled his eyes. 'Sure. Come on, we gotta research some more, I've got a few books for us to go through.'  
Dean took a seat on Sam's lefthand side and pulled a stack of paper towards his chest. It was the part of the job he liked least and was glad that Sam had taken such a shine to it. He considered that, probably, as he had gone to college he was just used to sifting through books for information. For essays and tests and all that. Dean had been ok at history in high-school, much better in shop though, he was good at remembering lore and using it. It was the finding it that annoyed him, he could absorb the intel and always have it to hand, he just needed his brother to point at it.   
'Whats this one?' he asked, holding out a page.  
'Aramaic.' Sam said, after a glance at the page. 'Leave that one, I'll try translate it later.'

'I can, if you want?' Temperance was at the door, a bulging bag of food in her arms.  
'You speak Aramaic?' Dean took the bag and showed her to the kitchen.  
'Yeah, a bit.' She pulled a phone from her pocket, put on her playlist, washed her hands and began pulling out knives and pots, Dean pointing out the right cabinets to find everything in.  
'What do you need translated?' she asked.  
Dean put away a few of the groceries, choosing his words carefully. 'Just some stuff about Demons. 'Nothing serious. You speak a few languages huh?'  
'A few. I can read more than I can speak. My dad insisted on a Classical Education, but I left school when I was a teenage.' She carefully lined a tin with pastry and set it in the oven to bake.   
'Never was much use at Latin.' she continued, while peeling apples into florets for a tart.  
Dean thought about how much Latin he had picked up over the years, shaking his head at having to take Spanish in high-school. She directed him to whisk caramel in a pan while she did something complicated with a joint of meat.  
'Who's this?' he asked, nodding to the speaker.  
'The band? The Misfits. You don't like it?'  
'They're fine, a little, uh, not good. At all.'  
'Hey! Offend me on my first day why don't you.' she slapped him with a dish towel and pushed him away from the bubbling sugar..  
Sam, who had approached at the sound of All Hell Breaks Loose, asked her. 'So you're Irish?'  
He had spoken to Dean about this, about needing to know her backstory before they could really trust her. Dean was ok with that, he thought Sam might be going a bit over board with the caution though.  
'More or less, I was born in Italy, moved to Ireland when I was 6 with my dad. Lived all around from 16 onwards.' she paused to pour custard and caramel into a pastry shell. Dean followed the careful movements of her hands as she worked.  
'I played in a band for years, travelled around Europe in a van. Met an exorcist in New Orleans a few years back and hung round with him, worked together a while, then I studied magic with a voodoo priest.'  
'Blowing in the wind, huh?' Sam asked.  
'Thats a life story alright.' Dean was flicking through her phone at the music lined up. He opened a bottle of beer, slid it down the counter to her, opened another for himself and sat, ruffling his brothers hair.   
'We've always been Hunters, right Sammy?'  
'Right. Family business.' He rolled his eyes.  
'Parents were a bit shit? I get that.' she sat down across from them.  
Dean barked a laugh 'Well our mom wasn't a Demon, no vacations in Hell.'  
She smiled, a slow crooked smile. It didn't touch her eyes, Dean wondered how much she had been allowed express as a kid, if something held her back.   
'Actually I've only been there a few times, to visit Gus. It's somewhat lacking in seaside resorts.'  
She looked so ordinary, so unassuming. Dean scrutinised her from head to toe, she could of been a college kid, studying art or music or something where people wore eyeliner and ripped jeans. The ragged scar on her throat was just visible over her collar. He thought it must be a burn, the skin looked waxy and thin, spread pale and tight. The pattern was a little like the veins on a leaf. He looked away, glanced at his brother, who was munching on salad with gusto.  
'How do you know him, Crowley? That guy is a grade-A psycho.' Dean spoke around his beer and leaned forward, spinning a bottle cap between his fingers.   
'Yeah.' she agreed. This smile did reach her eyes, this smile changed her face. It softened her harsh edges, melted the cold thing in her gaze. It was a nice smile, almost friendly, almost pretty.  
'It's part of his charm. We met first in a bar in Paris, then again in Istanbul. Just sort of hit it off. He's my oldest friend, my best friend.'  
'Thats creepy' Sam shook his head, with a little laugh.   
The King of Hell didn't make friends with half human chicks in Paris, Dean though, darkly, he wondered what Crowley's angle on this was. He quickly pushed down the idea of them sleeping together, almost gagging on his beer and drawing a confused look from Sam.  
'What does Crowley even do for fun? Dinner, movies, torture?' Dean made a face, trying to imagine Crowley being anything other than a total douche.   
Temperance bit her lip, holding back another smile. 'Just ordinary things.' she said, laughter in her voice.   
'Ordinary?' Sam chuckled, Dean could tell he was warming to her.  
'Museums, concerts, drinks. He had a goal for a few years to try and improve me, but it didn't really work.'  
'Improve you?' Dean was setting out cutlery, rattling forks in his hand.  
'You know, fancy clothes, posh restaurants. He wasn't overly charmed with crappy punk and street food.' she drank her beer, glanced at the oven timer.  
Dean laughed, suddenly picturing the guy chowing down a paper wrapped burger.   
'Yeah, I'll bet.'   
The idea of Crowley doing anything as normal as hanging out with another person gave him the shivers. He picked at the beer label, looked up as Temperance gulped hers down. She was really graceful, she made moving to check the oven look like a dance.  
'I never asked if you guys even liked apple tarts.' her lip trapped by her teeth as she turned to consider them.  
'Tarts?' he bent his head to the side, curiously.  
'Like an apple pie'  
Sam laughed as Dean felt his mouth drop open, in happy wonder.   
'Yes' he answered for them both.  
'We like pie.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments welcome - thanks :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wanted them to know that she had seen evil in goodness and goodness in evil. She wanted to tell them about fairy stories, not Disney ones with Tinkerbell and the power of friendship. The type of stories that ran in her blood, the type she learned as a kid, in school in Ireland. In her head fairies weren't good, but they weren't evil, they were just so different that they might as well be evil to mere humans. She just didn't have the words to explain all these thoughts, they were things that were half formed and never voiced, all the little things that made her who she was. So she said.   
> 'I'll help you if I can, but, this is a terrible idea. Heaven and Hell exist, you cant cut them off from the Earth, its going to have a knock on effect.'.....
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

It was, she decided, padding barefoot from the showers to her bedroom, not a bad place to live. She had to tattoo the Norse Rune on her wrist with a pin and a bottle of ink, and drink a blood tonic every full moon to be able to be inside the place, but that was better than paying rent.   
The brothers had told her, shiftily, that they had gotten neck deep in something big and Dean grudgingly explained that they weren't ready to tell her about it yet and pressed her to talk to Crowley.  
'Civil fucking war?' she said, down the phone line to him.  
'Its your mother, she's not fond of me.'  
'Fuck sake, Gus. Why didn't you tell me?'  
His apology had been shifty and his next few text messages had done nothing to make her feel better about being left in the dark.  
Besides that, things were going well, Sam did enlist her help with a few translations in Cuneiform and Aramaic, bits and pieces to do with Greater Demons that she had been interested to find out. His brother, Dean, was a decent cook and an ok drinking buddy. They played well together, the few Hunts were always smooth and Dean said having a girl around made them less suspicious. He was a good Hunter, he knew his stuff and he always had a back up plan, she appreciated that.   
It surprised her that the eldest Winchester didn't seem to notice his capacity for his own vocation, she saw in his brothers eyes that Sam was in awe and it would have warmed her heart. If she had of been the heart warming type.   
Dean played the game well, she wondered what he was like at chess and decided not to play against him for money. The last weeks of Summer trickled by and suddenly it was Autumn again, the leaves were turning to rust on the boughs and she had the urge to write music about things changing, things turning, endings she would desperately love to see.

When the day came that they decided to bring her into their trust she needed a few minutes to process the sheer fucking stupidity of mankind before she could say, without venom.   
'I just want one day where this shit doesn't happen.'   
Her ex boyfriend had been a magnet for this sort of nonsense and she had spent a chunk of her life embroiled with the politics of Hell.  
'Me too' Sam sighed.   
'So, you're closing the Gates of Hell, as if that an ordinary thing to do?' she pulled a small tin from her pocket and began rolling a joint.   
'You fucked around in Purgatory, know a fucking Prophet and have decided to reorder the universe.' she spoke to her hands as she worked, trying to right it all in her head.  
'There are these three Trials to close the Gates.' Sam explained.  
'You're smoking that in here?' Dean asked, gesturing to the kitchen. She stood by the hob, flicked on the fan, pointedly.  
'How, the merciful fuck did you get into this?' she thought, for a moment, there must be something that she was missing. Something big and obvious that would piece this all together.   
Dean had been in Hell, he had clawed his way out of his own grave and Sam had almost let Lucifer free after what sounded like a shit trip on Demon blood. She thought she was a fuck up, this made her look sensible by comparison.  
'Its been a long time coming.' Sam explained, hanging his head.  
'Look, Hell is bad. It's a bad place full of bad shit.' Dean put down his cup, forcefully, sloshing coffee onto the table.  
'It's a place. Heaven's no better.' she countered.  
'Oh, you been there too?' Dean snorted at that.  
'Yes, once.' that silenced them, she went on, snappishly.   
'It was horrifically painful for me and I never want to go there again.'  
'How?' Sam asked, after a moment, he changed tack.   
'Why?'  
'I went to find out something about my dad. It's a spell, easy if you've got the blood for it.' she didn't want to get into this, not with them, not with anyone. She went to try and protect herself from him.  
'What like, Angels blood? Do Angels bleed?' Dean frowned at this brother.  
'Of course they do, they wear human skin, just like Demons. Anyway, I've been there, one is as bad as the other as far as I'm concerned, and the Earth is no better.' she tapped ash onto the lid of her tin, her eyes far away.  
She was a nihilist at heart, she reasoned, fiddling with her lighter. Dean looked her up and down, eyes lingering the the strange scars on her neck, the ends of the same pattern visible under her cuff.   
'What happened to you?' he finally asked. She looked up into his handsome face and let a little bit of her feeling play out on her own.  
'I had a shit childhood.' her voice masked. She noticed how much it upset Sam, when she spoke in that flat, dead tone. It tugged his lips down at the corners, his displeasure hanging like a weight around his neck.   
'You've said as much.' Dean put a hand out, spreading his fingers, asking for more.   
She exhaled heavily, this was supposed to be about what they were doing, not what she had come from. She offered Dean the joint, which he took with a shrug and said.  
'My dad wasn't exactly cut out for parenthood. He tired, he did try and I know that he loved me in his own way. But that all just fucked me up more than I needed to be fucked up. I left, I ran away, I decided that good and bad don't exist. They're just two ways of looking at the world. Two sides of the same coin.'   
She thought, for a moment, about her dads fingers locking with bruising strength around her arms. She pushed the memory back, breathing through her nose. Better not to think about that, better not to remember at all.   
'You were raised as a Hunter?' Dean asked, though the smoke.  
'A killer.' she said, glumly.   
'So, back to operation Shut Down?'   
'You gotta look at it from our point of view' Sam explained, he made a move as if to touch her and she flinched away. Touching, she wasn't big on that, especially not with the memory of her dad in her head. He dropped his palm onto his lap, looking stung and she tried to smile at him.  
'We just want to save people, to help people.'  
'I get that' she nodded, she wanted to be honest with them.   
She wanted them to know that she had seen evil in goodness and goodness in evil. She wanted to tell them about fairy stories, not Disney ones with Tinkerbell and the power of friendship. The type of stories that ran in her blood, the type she learned as a kid, in school in Ireland. In her head fairies weren't good, but they weren't evil, they were just so different that they might as well be evil to mere humans. She just didn't have the words to explain all these thoughts, they were things that were half formed and never voiced, all the little things that made her who she was. So she said.   
'I'll help you if I can, but, this is a terrible idea. Heaven and Hell exist, you cant cut them off from the Earth, its going to have a knock on effect.'  
'Maybe. Or maybe we close the gates and people are finally free.' Dean spoke with conviction.  
'Free from Demons coming up?'  
'Yeah.' he nodded.  
'Not free from Angels coming down.' she shrugged, walking slowly away and leaving the brothers to themselves. 

None of this sat right with her, she found her phone and text Crowley. He didn't reply, but when she reached her bedroom there was a bottle of her favourite whiskey sitting on her desk. The brothers didn't like Demons, they had their reasons, but they liked Angels well enough. They didn't have her experience with them, they had no reason to fear them. Sighing, she pulled the cork on the bottle, it made a very satisfying pop, and thought that she might like to play some music.   
Sam and Dean were not like her, nor was she like them and they disagreed on many things, but nothing big really, expect perhaps this hair-brained scheme to save mankind.  
She could forgive them for what had happened with her mother, she knew, in her heart, that Abaddon would have tried to kill her at some stage without her intervening during her revenge on Dean. Now that she knew her mother was trying to kill Crowley, she began to turn her mind towards the horrify prospect of fighting her. Crowley was her family, he was her best friend, she wouldn't let anyone hurt him, not her mother, not the Winchesters, no one.  
'Hello.' a harsh gravelly voice greeted her from the door.  
She looked up at the intrusion into her space and paled, setting down her cello bow she took a shaky breath.   
'Nice coat'. He was tall, dark haired and blue eyed and dressed like a bible salesman.  
'I am the Angel Castiel.' he strode forward, quickly, his hand held straight out and waited. She took it.  
'Temperance.' she said.  
'Virtuous.' then he put his hand away and looked down in a sudden fit of stern disapproval  
'For a half Demon. I believe there is irony in the name.'  
'My dad loved a good joke.' She stood, as Dean walked by.  
'Hey!' he called, sounding happier than he had in weeks.   
'Cas, good you guys have met.'  
'You have a pet Angel?” she waited until the heavenly body was out of earshot.   
'Yeah! He's gonna help us with some things, um, like translations and stuff.'  
She nodded, left them to it and decided not to ask. If they needed someone to translate Enochian an Angel was the best one for the job, she could read it well enough, it just burnt her eyes after a while. Unless it wasn't Enochian that they were reading, maybe this Angel was fluent in German.   
It was, no doubt, part of their plot to close Hell. She still wasn't sure if she could help with that and Sam seemed keen for her to stay out of it. 

The brothers had a job, they left her in the Bunker with the silent understanding that they were going to do something she didn't approve of. 'Call me if you need me.' she said, as Dean turned the key in his Impala's engine.   
'Please.'   
Sam had been distant recently, and as they pulled away she saw his face crumple. What she knew of their recent exploits was scant, but she did understand that he was getting weak. It seemed to be part of their plan and it worried her. She could smell something like death lingering around him, he was hollow eyed and frail compared to the man she had met a few months before.  
It was a week before they came back, a week where she was alone once more. She had a really long shower, danced naked to the kitchen and ate white bread sandwiches over the sink. The next day she hiked into the wilderness and polished off a bottle of something that may or may not have been paint-stripper in the sitting room, Crowley wasn't answering her calls, so she didn't bother keeping her phone with her.  
The third day was a Friday, she went into the one small bar in town and ordered a beer from a buxom bartender, then went home with her. She walked back to the Bunker in the small hours of the morning, feeling hollow. Not from the sex, the sex, she felt, was pretty good. She felt something missing inside of her and squeezed her eyes shut against it. The sun struggled up, lemon pale as she fell into her own bed.   
On the fifth night she couldn't sleep so she explored the strange building she had found herself living in. It was oddly beautiful, vaulted ceilings in the common area, a sort of cold war chic meets art deco glamour. It had its own strange style that felt both uncomfortable and cosy. The library was wonderful and might have had more appeal if it had contained something other than books on magic, Hunting, prophecy and monsters. Doom and gloom books, she thought to herself as she trailed her finger of the dusty spines, working her way through towering shelves.   
It was here, beneath the earth in the half light, she felt something stirring. She put a hand on the wall, exploring her mind, finding it in its usual broken state.   
It was happening outside of her, she knew that, but she felt it within, in the centre of herself that had nothing to do with her body. Gasping she bent double, holding onto the dark oak for support. The shelf crumbled under the weight of her touch, leaving a perfect hand print buckling the old wood.   
'What?' she spoke aloud, to the empty bunker.   
Panic tickled her, running the length of the library she dashed into the corridor, in her room she got her phone and dialed Crowley's number. It went straight to voicemail. She dialed both the brothers to the same effect. She toyed with the idea of ringing her ex and thought better of it.  
The air felt too heavy, charged with electricity and magic. She went out into the night and looked up in horror at the sky.   
To human eyes it might look like a hail of shooting stars. She had eyes that could see, she knew the truth, she saw with her approximation of a soul after all. She saw with orbs of shifting sin.  
Angels were falling from Heaven, in their hordes, they were falling formlessly to Earth. She swallowed back her nausea and hastily checked the wards. The Bunker was safe, enough, for now. The world was wrong under her feet, very wrong. She stood there all night, she stood there and wanted to scream.

The sun coming up gave her no respite from that fear, she was afraid, she was terribly afraid. She could taste it, copper and bitter on her tongue. Her phone rang in her fist.  
'Dean?' it was at her ear faster than a human could move.  
'Hey.' His usual rich tone was thick with grief.  
'What the fuck happened?'  
He sounded exhausted, drained on the end of the line. 'We tried to close the Gates, but it didn't work.'  
She froze at the tremor in his voice, it wasn't the time to berate him. 'Is Sam alright?' the pause lasted too long, her heart rate increased, she waited.   
'Not really, he's real beat up, I'm taking him home now.' there was another pregnant pause as he took a ragged breath.   
'He doesn't remember what happened.'   
'Ok. Its ok. 'Bring him here and we can sort it out, it's going to be fine.' How easily she could lie, the daughter of a Demon. Lies were her life.  
Dean sounded like he was weeping, it was a few minutes before he spoke again. 'Thanks, I'll see you tomorrow.' and he hung up.  
'Shit.' she shoved her phone in her pocket, rubbed her eyes, and went indoors. These Trials that they had spoken of, she wracked her mind for details, she knew they were supposed to kill the participant.   
If Sam had really tired to seal of Hell than he might not survive much longer. She checked through her magic supplies and realised, with a dark and unwelcome twist of her thoughts, that her own blood might fix him up. It might fuck him up too, there was more to it that just Demonic power. Her dad had never liked her to admit to the duality of her nature, but in this situation it might be best to explain it to the brothers. She took a vial and filled it with her blood, just in case and went to the library to try and read up on what it was that Sam had done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, any feedback is very welcome! I know that I didn't go into the Trials much, I want to go back and add to that storyline soon.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Crowley, you told us about the First Blade, you said it was a way to stop her!' Sam pressed, leaning forward.  
> Temperance blinked at that, Crowley must have heard the slight hitch in her breathing, or felt the weight of her eyes on his twisting hands, because he suddenly became still.  
> He seemed to roll a thought around on his tongue.   
> 'I'm re-thinking that.' his eyes flickered briefly over to hers and a heavy silence filled the air....'
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

She was in the shower when they got back, she had drank all her tea and it seemed like the best course of action was to face her problems well washed. She heard Sam's voice calling her. 'One sec!' she dragged her clothes on, her usual black jeans and unadorned black shirt. Sam was in the study. He looked fine, happy, healthy, very healthy. Glowing, he beamed at her.  
'Hey! You won't believe what happened!.'  
She stopped, unsure, her hackles rising by the door. 'Are you ok?'   
He was wrong, something was off. It felt like someone was wearing his face as a mask. She lived by her gut instincts and this one told her to shoot first and ask questions later.  
He snorted, shook his head 'You're worse than Dean, I've never felt better. But, look, we found something. Something big!'  
'Where is Dean?' she kept a little distance between herself and the tall man, who didn't seem to notice her discomfort.  
'He went on a supply run.' he waved a hand vaguely.   
'Look, so we were down south, in this real old place. There was a deconsecrated church that we wanted to check out and, well, we got there and we found something!'  
He sounded excited, he was grinning, ear to ear. It looked too ordinary, like a possessed Norman Rockwell painting. He had taken his usual kindness and magnified it, turning the wholesome charm into something that made her skin crawl. He smelled like magic, electric and rank.  
'What type of thing?” she raised a brow, her hand resting over the knife sheathed on her forearm, beneath her shirt.  
'Well, its easier if I show you' he explained.  
He moved to the door and she stayed very still.  
'Come on!' he urged.  
He led her down the rarely used corridor to a storage area and pointed to a set of shelves. 'Behind them, theres another room.'  
She remained a few feet from him, out of his long reach. He had height on her and weight, but she was quick and a lot more deadly.  
'Ok?' she knew her voice sounded even, it shouldn't alarm him at all. She pulled the knife free behind her back and took a breath.  
At that moment someone began shouting, someone she knew. Her eyes widened and she crossed the floor without thinking   
'Gus!' she tore open the doors and saw him there, tied in the centre of the room, strapped down to a chair. Too late she realised that her back was to Sam, barely a second but that second was all her needed.

A force, a foot as it turned out, shoved her forward. She toppled over the wards and tumbled into a Devils Trap. It had been carved into the ground, magic bled up from the stone hampering her movement. Furious she jumped up, and spun around, snarling.  
'Have fun!' Sam winked, closing the doors with a bang.  
'Why do I get the feeling that he isn't Sam?' she went over to her bound friend, it was like walking on broken glass, but she was strong, she ignored it. Her flesh burned when she tried to take off the enchanted metal that held Crowley down. She hissed at the pain and settled for pulling off his gag.  
'Temperance, get me out of here!' his usual suave voice was splintered and panicked.  
'Babe, I'm trying.' an uncontrollable shiver rattled down her spine, it hurt. It hurt to be here. The ward was pressing in on her skin, it was running through her veins mingling with her blood.   
'Gus.' she managed to splutter as blood poured from her nose, it welled up from the beds of her nails and slid from behind her tightly closed eyelashes. She gasped, finally unable to keep her mouth closed. Blood and spit sizzled on the warded floor and the room swayed.  
'Temperance?' Crowley watched in rising horror.   
'What's happening?'  
'Hurts' she blurted out. She slid to the ground, muscles twitching under her skin. Fire, fire and acid and pain. Pain, horrible pain. It was trying to crush her, it would consume her.  
'Darling, what can I do, tell me what?' His question cut off as she began to scream.   
She screamed herself hoarse and kept screaming, she screamed until her throat bled. Crowley, unable to move, could only watch her torment. She didn't know how to stop, what would happen if she stopped screaming? Her father was wrapping lighting around her arm, a Bauba was shredding the hair from her scalp and she was too small to push it away, an exorcism rite was bellowing in her ears and it all hurt so much.   
She needed to think and she tried to find herself in the hazy sea of burnt offerings and blood. Someone needed her, someone needed help. The needle felt good, it felt better than the pills, it felt better than sex. It could make the pain stop, she reasoned with herself, this pain could stop if she just wasn't around to feel it.   
It was too much, she fell in and out of consciousness, sometimes screaming, sometimes, weeping. Hours seemed to pass, or maybe it was only minutes, until she lay there silent, beyond pain, consumed by it.  
The Demon was desperate, he never blinked, just looked at her with an intensity that broke through the shattered thing that was her pain. She could feel him looking at her, under the agony and above it, the weight of his eyes. With a desperate effort she tired to open her eyes.  
She, somehow, pulled herself up, putting her face to his leg. 'Gus.' her voice a ruin. She took a few great panting breaths, it was too much effort. Her head lolled, her hands were heavy in her lap. Something vital, something in her chest was stuttering. She tried to concentrate on that, on her heart beating. It was so difficult, it was so slow, treacle thick air in her lungs, stopping up her throat. She wanted to say, Gus, don't worry, but words were big things and she was only little.  
'Temperance?' he wept.   
'Winchesters! Somebody!' His roar echoed around the chamber.  
She heard it from somewhere far away, she was not in that room with him, she was being pulled somewhere less terrible. The world around her was dim, melting away at the edges. Crowley's fine wool suit against her cheek seemed to grow and cover her, a dark, heavy blanket. The thing in her chest wasn't moving anymore, the other thing that was her power was fading. It shrieked and begged to be let out, but it shrank from the magic around her. It was cold, she thought, too cold for her.

Footsteps in the hall, the doors were thrown back and from the gloom Dean appeared, staring in shock. He hurried and pulled her into his arms, carrying her out of the warded room. Her body barely weighed anything, but it was rigid and stiff.  
She began to spasm, violent convulsions and he put her down on the ground, just before the door. 'Cas!' he roared.   
No Angel appeared, a pale and sweating Sam limped into view.  
'You!' Crowley spat. He built up a curse in his mouth, he was the son of a witch and a Demon King, he could curse people well and thoroughly when needed  
'What happened?' Dean, tried to still the twitching body, he took her pulse and spluttered. 'She ain't breathing, she's not breathing!'  
The men were in a state of panic, disarray and anger and several things happened at once that caught them all off balance. Her eyes opened and they shone brighter than the stars, and Dean, kneeling on the concrete, froze in mute wonder.  
Light, blinding and indescribably bright, filled the narrow room. It burned Crowley's eyes and he wrenched them shut. Her body arched, just a dim shadow really beneath the sea of heavenly fire, then slammed suddenly back down on the ground. Blinking away pain the men and the Demon looked on in wonder. She was still unconscious, but now un-bloody, whole and glowing with health. On the ground, etched all around her, was a perfect imprint of massive wings.  
Dean recovered first and bent to pick her up, carrying her silently from the dusty room.  
'Oi!' Crowley shouted 'You bastard, let me out!'  
Sam kicked the door shut, sealing him in the darkness.  
'Bollox.' he grunted.

She woke slowly, pain building behind her eyes. 'Ugh' she grunted, trying to move. Hangover, or was it a migraine, shit she wondered if she had grown a fucking brain tumour overnight.  
'Tem!' She felt Dean's hand on hers and peeled her gritty eyes open. He looked haggard, a few days stubble on his cheeks and dark bags beneath his eyes.  
'Hi' she croaked. Then it all flooded back to her. She was on her feet in an instant, swaying, black spots clouding her vision.  
'Easy,' Dean caught her shoulders.  
'Gus! Sam!' she managed, her legs buckling. Dean pulled her back to her bed, sat her down.  
'You, uh, I thought for a while that you were dead. Shit, Tem, you were dead!'  
'Yeah. Getting locked in a Devils Trap will do that.' her voice hoarse but laced with her usual harsh sarcasm.  
'It hurts you, like it doesn't just bind you, it actually hurts you.'  
'Yes.' she snapped, touching her head, gingerly.  
'Why?'  
She paused, blinking slowly, here was the thing she really should have told them.  
'Because I'm not a full Demon.' she said at length. He had seen what had happened, he must know.  
'Tem.' he shuffled, unsure.  
'I'm half Demon' she looked up at him, inscrutable. She decided to lay it all out and hope he didn't hate her for it.  
'And half Angel. Which, you know, same thing really. My mother is a Knight of Hell and my father is an Archangel. I was raised on Earth by the first son of man, the father of murder. I'm not human, Dean, not even a little. I'm a monster. I'm a think you should Hunt.'  
She waited then, in silence, waited for his anger, his disgust. He surprised her by sitting back down, touching her hand and saying, after a lengthy silence 'You're human enough, I've seen you hungover.'  
She laughed, a short, sharp burst of laughter. Part relief and part heartbreak. 'Now you know. I wasn't exactly honest.'  
'You didn't lie.' his kind hand squeezed hers.  
'I'm sorry you got hurt, Sam was, well. He wasn't himself.' he began to explain.  
Shit!' she jumped up 'Gus!'

'Wait!' Dean chased her down the hall, to the dungeon. She had thrown open the doors and stood with her toes on the line.  
Crowley's head had snapped up, his nostrils flared as he drank her in, in silence.  
'Were you ever going to tell me?' he asked. A little flash of guilt, she pushed that right down with all her other repressed feelings.  
'Oh shut up, don't fucking start on that.' she whipped around, saw Dean.   
'Release him!'  
'Oh, um.' he undid the bindings on the chair, but left the manacles on, leading him out over the boundary. She barely saw him, she only had eyes for the Demon, her friend, her family. Her arms went around his neck and she hugged him, ignoring the sting of the wards on the metal as they bit into her flesh.  
'Temperance!' he admonished, jerking back when he noticed the singed skin. Dean walked slowly ahead of them. Crowley shot him a look then touched his hand to hers, she looked at it, then back to his face.   
His suit was rumpled, his hair was mused. She had never seen him look less then perfect. She filed this untidy image away, a memory for later, to laugh at. Laughter had no place here, not now. Now it seemed they were in enemy territory.  
They sat at the library table, where Sam joined them, sheepishly. She tried not to note how the brothers sat on one side, separating themselves from the Demon and the not exactly Demon on the other. She was tainted in their eyes to begin with, no doubt, and now there was the weight of her dishonesty to consider. She had lied to them, they had invited her into their home and she had lied.  
'I would like an explanation and I realise that I owe you one too.' she tried to speak levelly.  
They all nodded. 'You go first, darling.' Crowley suggested.   
She reasoned that if anyone should go first it was the boys. They had chained up her mate and Sam had definitely been possessed, and all this was wrapped up in their stupid fucking plan to seal off the afterlife. She shrugged, gathering her thoughts, then ran a hand through her hair and sighed. She would get the ball rolling.  
'My ma is a Demon, my father is an Angel.'  
'Which one?' Crowley pressed, his cold voice harsh in her ears.  
'Michael' she said, scrapping a nail over the peeling varnish on the desk.   
'Archangel. The.'  
Sam's mouth fell open, but he kept quiet. He looked at Dean beside him and the brothers seemed to silently communicate something.  
Crowley seemed most upset, he exhaled heavily through his nose and refused to look at her, even when she kicked him under the table.   
'Why didn't you tell me?' he asked, after an age, the strained tone made her wish that she hadn't just kicked him. Crowley had never used that tone with her before, it was almost heartbroken. She was suddenly worried he would hate her, he would leave, he wouldn't want her anymore.  
'Because I didn't want to. I don't want to be what I am. I am a fucking abomination and I left my dads house to not have to fucking deal with this. '  
'I thought your father was human, a Hunter.' Crowley looked away, pouting, he didn't like not knowing everything, information was currency in his world. She knew that, she thought that she understood why he felt so betrayed.  
'He.' she shrugged, it was hard to explain without sounding dramatic. Squaring her shoulders and putting on her most bored voice, to protect herself, she said.   
'The man who raised me, my actual dad. He's Cain.'  
The heavy silence that followed this statement was enough to chill the blood in her veins. She squirmed under the combined weight of the Winchesters and Crowley's gaze.   
'Well!' the Demon broke the silence, tugging his cuffs to a neat line under his jacket.   
'You think you know someone.'  
Relief flooded through her and she managed to scoff a little and roll her eyes. 'Oh fuck off, Crowley! Or do you prefer, your majesty.' she bowed her head in mock salute.  
He chuckled, his tone dark and velvet. 'Oh, I do actually.'  
'Can't believe they knew that and I didn't.' she looked at the brothers, peaking up from beneath her brows. Dean looked sick, Sam was frowning so hard that deep lines had creased his face, ageing him prematurely.   
'Don't you start on the betrayal nonsense.' Crowley warned, raising a manacled hand. The chain rattled, she wanted very much to tear it off his arm. Crowley couldn't, shouldn't, be chained. He was her friend.   
'Excuse you, I just didn't mention my tragic family drama. You full on misled me about your job and your fucking nickname!. Important, current things, that friends should know.'  
'Nickname!' His voice raised. He was letting himself get a little angry, his relief at her continued existence must have long soured. She knew that he had sat in the dark, brooding while she healed.  
'Guys!' Sam said, weakly, watching this play out in utter disbelief.  
Temperance snorted, nudged him beneath the table with her knee. 'So we're even?'  
'Guess so.' Crowley agreed, smiling again. His eyes full of something she couldn't pin down. She frowned a question at him, but he looked away.  
'Yeah, ok, glad you two patched things up.' Dean spat.  
'I think we have bigger issues at hand. One, Abbey has taken over Hell, two, every Angel in the universe felt that power last night and is looking for the source and three.' he counted off on his fingers   
'We have a fucking dungeon and no-one fucking told me about it!.'  
After the forced laughter had died down and they were forced to discuss more serious matters, Temperance had to ask.   
'What happened with your really shit plan?'  
Dean coughed and he fiddled with a ring on his finger, taking his time to answer. 'Well, there were, um, trials. To close the gate you had to be worthy.'  
'Right.' she glanced at Sam, he was sweating now.   
'Sam did these trial things?'  
'It should have been me.' Dean suddenly angry, snarled at the table.   
'Dean.' she took his hand, perhaps the first time she had touched him, voluntarily, for no specific purpose. Just trying to soothe him. Dean's hand was bigger than hers, just as scared, just as strong. She pressed her fingers into his skin and he looked at her, tension leaving his face.  
'So the trials? Did he have to, I dunno, juggle severed heads or something?'  
'You had to bathe in the blood of a hellhound.'  
'Misty.' Crowley grunted.  
'Ah not Misty! I held her when she was just a teeny puppy, she was so sweet!.'  
'What? Sweet!' Sam shook his head, snapping out of his revere.  
'Misty?' Dean pulled his hand gently away from Temperance, shooting her a small smile.  
'Pokemon' Temperance and Crowley said together.  
'Right, well, yeah. So bathe in the blood of Misty, save an innocent soul from Hell.' he stopped, suddenly, shaking his head.  
'You went?' she asked, carefully. She could suffer Hell, it didn't hurt, but it was uncomfortable. She was sure it would drive a mortal insane.  
Sam picked up the explanation. 'I did. I walked through purgatory and in that way. Our friend, a Hunter, he was there.'  
Dean growled, suddenly angry once more, his green eyes locked onto Crowley. 'He shouldn't of been there. You're bestie stole a Hunter's soul and tortured him.'  
'Broke the rules, a little. Only a little.' Crowley hissed.  
'You son of a bitch!' Sam spat  
'One letter off.' Temperance said, she needed facts, not an argument. In an attempt to by pass on one she pressed for more details.  
'So, you freed a soul from Hell?'  
Sam cleared his throat 'Yeah. Bobby Singer, got him out and into Heaven. Then there was the final trail.'  
'Well, don't keep a woman waiting.' she drummed her fingers on the table top as the silence stretched.  
'To cure a demon.' Dean didn't look at her when he spoke, his cheeks were tinged a little with shame.  
She stood up, slowly, eyes kindling with a pale fire. 'Cure?'  
'Its a ritual, you cleanse their blood with blessed human blood. It should have worked.'  
'You tried to kill Gus.' not a question, her hands curled into fists. The lights around them flickered, the bulbs bouncing in their sockets and a strange wind picked up around her. They tried to kill Crowley, these boys had tried to kill her Crowley.  
Dean kicked his seat back and held out his hands for peace, but already it was as if lightening was flashing about them as something inside her snapped. She felt her Wings unfurl and she knew that her eyes were black, smokey and terrible. A tempest of rage, of fury, buffeted her fragile grip on humanity as both her inner Angel and inner Demon tried to exist as one. They tried to kill him.

Crowley, no doubt more afraid than he looked, took her hand and turned her to face him  
'But they didn't kill me, darling, I'm fine, right as rain!'  
Her mind screamed to run, to leave these dangerous creatures and find somewhere safe, because this Cure terrified her. It was wrong. It was unnatural. She shook her head, she couldn't speak for fear that the battle raging inside her would burst out. If her dad knew, if he found out. No.  
'Temperance?' Crowley's voice, she knew it so well, he was frightened.   
Using all of her focus she imagined the power like a ball that she could cover with a cloth, it was a thought she could push to the back of her head. She took a few deep breaths and folded away her Wings, her eyes were still black when she sat, but the light had calmed and the strange wind that had whipped at her hair had gone still. The rigid control she had maintained since her childhood had vanished so quickly, maybe her resolve had been weakened by her near death experience, or maybe fear had brought it out.  
In her head her dads voice echoed. She was sick, she was wrong, nothing could cure her. There was a cure though, her dad would love to know about that, no doubt he'd love to taunt her with it. Yes Temperance, he would say, there is a cure, but you are an abomination. Death is the only thing that could cure you. Monster.  
'Sorry.' she stuttered, when she could speak.  
Sam looked sheepishly down at the floor. 'It didn't work anyway. It went south. Turns out there was bigger players in the game.'  
She noticed that he didn't look as ill as she remembered, but there was still a definite sag to his shoulders.  
'Tell me what happened.'  
She had taken Crowley's hand in a vice like grip as the brothers explained just exactly what went wrong, her face pinched with worry.   
'Heaven was sealed by rebels? Wow, never would have seen that coming.'  
'The poor goodies up there are in a right pickle. I am thankful for it, the distraction rather saved my skin.' Crowley said, conversationally, he stroked her hand soothingly until she let go.  
'Castiel called us, he said theres civil war, just like in Hell. We were close to finishing the Trials, close to, um, curing Crowley.' Sam's voice was leaden and he struggled to get the words out.  
'Then Abaddon showed up and kind of put paid to that anyway.' Dean ended with a shrug, the sting of regret coloured his voice.  
'She did a number on Sam.'  
Temperance felt her mouth twist with disgust. 'The Angel that possessed Sam. Which one was it?'  
'Ezekiel.' Dean looked at her then, he met her eyes with a steady gaze. His own type of ferocity was more calm than hers, more human, but she shuddered at it all the same. He was furious, he was swearing vengeance. She would hate to be an enemy in his sight.  
'What? The prophet? They can't posses people.' this seemed to genuinely perplex Crowley, he looked between the brothers, his brows raised.  
'Prophet?” Sam asked, then he frowned 'Oh, fall of Jerusalem. I guess he became an Angel, when he died.'   
'You can't. Doesn't work that way.' Crowley said, shortly.   
'But people become Demons al the time!' Dean reasoned.  
'Yeah, but they can't become Angels. Angles wouldn't allow that to happen. Pollute their sacred homeland and all that.' Crowley flashed his teeth at them.  
'Dicks.' Temperance muttered.   
'So, he lied, who ever he was.' Crowley pointed out.   
'How do we find out who it was? Can we? 'He was in my head!' Sam's deep voice rose on that last word as a little shiver went down his spine. He had been used, he had been violated. Temperance's winced in sympathy.   
'I can try. 'But I'm not great at that type of thing and it might hurt. Where is Castiel anyway?'  
'He's grounded.'He's cut off from his Grace but he's on the way here.'  
That didn't sound pleasant, it hurt her to exists, but she couldn't begin to imagine how to exists without the raging tempest inside her. Temperance put her hands together, like she was praying.   
'Is he, eh, ok?'  
Dean shook his head 'Heaven's in uproar, he says its mirroring Hell.'  
She wanted to rub that in a little, she wasn't a goddamned saint, the 'I told ya so' was sitting on her tongue but she swallowed it. She turned back to Sam.  
'I can try, but it will hurt.'  
'I can stand a little pain.' Sam bandied a small smile.   
'Good.'  
'What do I have to do?'  
Temperance stood up, walked around the table and put her fingers to his temples. 'You have to let me in.'   
She concentrated on his face, then past that. She matched her breathing to his. He had to let her through, she had to slip behind his eyes like light.  
He nodded, and a horrifically bright light burned through the room. It seemed to travel down her arms to her fingers and pulse under Sam's skin. He was still staring, barely breathing. It only lasted a moment, then she pulled away and he slumped. She shuddered, scrubbing her hands on her jeans.   
'Gadreel.'  
The brothers both looked sick, their faces twin expressions of shock and disgust.  
'Ah' Crowley spoke, settling his cuffed hands on his lap.  
'Know him, her? It?' She sat down again, massaging her temples, the echo of that Angel was reverberating through her. It seemed to ring hollow and loud in her ears.  
'He killed our friend.' Dean said in a small voice. '  
God's last prophet. Kevin.' Sam clarified.  
Temperance glanced at Crowley, who nodded that this was indeed the truth.   
'I'm sorry' she said, not really knowing what else to say. She had very few friends and most of them were dead.  
'Well, nothing we can do about it now.' Dean rubbed his forehead then straightened up in his seat. He made an obvious effort to put his pain aside, which was awful to see.  
'Our big problem is Abaddon. She's taken over Hell and she's out to get us. She need's to go down.' he stabbed the table with his finger, for emphasis.  
Temperance was silent, after a long, awkward moment she nodded. Crowley reached over and squeezed her knee. She knew him, she knew what stopped his words, he needed to reassure her but he wasn't sure how to, not with the brothers before them. He still had a persona to maintain in front of them. Even if they had captured him, beaten him and left him weak  
'I need lunch or something.' Dean announced. He left and returned with beer and a packet of jerky.   
'Do you eat when we're not here?' he asked Temperance, worriedly.   
'Not much, I don't really need to. Sorry, I meant to go shopping.'  
Sam, poked at the jerky his brother offered, but didn't eat any. 'Crowley has a plan to stop her, right?'  
'Sort of'. The Demon said, evasively. He fiddled with his hands, shifted in his seat, discomfort in his every movement.  
'Crowley, you told us about the First Blade, you said it was a way to stop her!' Sam pressed, leaning forward.  
Temperance blinked at that, Crowley must have heard the slight hitch in her breathing, or felt the weight of her eyes on his twisting hands, because he suddenly became still.  
He seemed to roll a thought around on his tongue.   
'I'm re-thinking that.' his eyes flickered briefly over to hers and a heavy silence filled the air.  
'The First Blade' She couldn't speak about it, she didn't want to. Thinking of her Dad was like shooting herself in the foot, it left her wounded and limping.  
'Its the weapon that Cain used to kill Abel. The first weapon that man turned on man, brother on brother. He made it and he is bound to it.' Her voice low enough that the men had to strain to hear.  
'Ok, well, Cain. Shit, we know he exists right, you must know where to find your father?' Sam nudged Dean and he shook his head.  
'Oh, uh, sorry, I didn't mean that, um, I didn't mean to sound that harsh.' Dean continued, sheepishly.  
'I know.' she touched a finger to the scar on her throat, absently.  
'The power from that weapon could stop Abaddon.' Crowley said, he turned towards Temperance, as if to ask her permission  
'Yes.' she agreed, she didn't want to look at them, couldn't stomach the air they were all breathing. Her mother was far from perfect, her mother was a Demon of the highest order. She killed and maimed and perpetuated evil and she liked doing it.   
Abaddon was her mother though, and the last time they had spoken Temperance had banished her, she had thrown her through a counter and then banished her. To save a man. A human Hunter that she barely knew.   
She didn't like having regrets, she didn't like to think back and second guess herself. Temperance took a fortifying breath and made herself look at Dean. He was regarding her in a way that reminded her of her dad, of Cain, he was weighing, judging, sorting things away with his glance. She thought that she might hate him, in that moment.  
'He doesn't have it anymore. He threw it away, decades ago.'  
'There is a spell that could find it.' Crowley said, all business now.  
Scowling at her friend, she was forced to agree. 'Yes, there is, just, explain to me why this is necessary?'  
'What?' Sam sat back in his chair, pulling away from her. Dean copied his movement without seeming to realise. She narrowed her eyes, one brow quirking up. Us and them, she thought to herself, again. They withdrew into themselves when challenged.  
'Temperance, darling, your mother is taking over Hell. She is calling in contracts all at once, she is waging war against human kind!' Crowley disliked disorder, he disliked his precious reputation being torn down.  
She didn't ask 'So what?', but it burned across her tongue, desperately. She understood why the Winchesters felt responsible for it, why they were compelled to try and fix it. She took a breath. 'So, you want to kill her and reinstall Gus?'  
'I don't need their help!' the Demon protested, but she shushed him and carried on.  
'Is that it, you want power to kill a Knight of Hell?' she pressed, catching the brothers in her ferocious gaze, all that power rippling through the place where her soul should be, begging to be let out.  
'Well?' she demanded.  
'Yeah, thats it, basically.' Dean answered, he tipped onto the back legs of his chair in an attempt to avoid her eyes.  
'There is plenty of ways to kill a Demon, a million billion.' Crowley said, shifting his manacled hands onto the tabletop.   
'But no one has ever killed a thing like her, these boys got close but she wont fall for that again. She needs to go down.'  
'She's my fucking mother! Jesus!' The word was fire on her tongue. Temperance stood, backing away from the table, from the men and their violent minds.   
'I need time to think about this, ok?'  
'Don't think too long.' Sam warned, his head bowed, long arms crossed.   
'We can do this without you.'

'No, you can't' she muttered. Cain could only be found if he wanted to be found, and as much as she abhorred the thought, she knew he had always left the door open for her. Not matter what he had put her through, no matter what she had done to get away form him, he would let her find him.  
Her favourite thing to do, to think, was to move. She didn't want to play her drums right then, so she found her crumpled gym clothes and ran in the cold morning air. Squirrels hopped out of her path, hurrying up bare trees at the scent of predator. She ran hard, fighting the ground, she wasn't actually much good at jogging. Her chest burned, she could taste iron and blood in her throat and a blister began to from the back of her ankle. She spat, let the blister heal without thinking, the sudden lack of its chaffing sting made her stop her feet and stand still.  
'Cock.' she dropped to a crouch. How many years had it been since she had healed herself without thinking about it. She didn't do that, she didn't use that power, never, not ever. She shook her head, biting into her fist to stop a thin scream. What was she doing, she had no idea what she was doing.  
She needed to take stock, she needed to reflect and she fucking hated reflecting. It made her feel things that she hated feeling. There was a flat rock just off the game trail she had been running on, she sat on it, a pale splay of lichen crumbled to dust against her running shoes. She became aware that dew had dampened her toes, seeping in through the cracked rubber soles and settling on the thin black cotton of her socks. She tried to ignore it, but it was like trying not to think of an elephant.   
'Fuck this.' Her damp feet turned towards the bunker and she went for a shower.  
The room was tiled in a medley of dark greens, similar to the hallway that ran between the living quarters and the Bunker's main room. She scrubbed her scalp with a bar of Pears soap, she had meant to buy shampoo weeks ago, the water was hard and didn't build much of lather. The heel of her hand felt how the hair on her scalp had grown out, how uneven it was.   
She needed to think about why killing her mother was a good idea, she needed to think about how to do that, if she could do that.  
'Darling?' Crowley was laid out, ankles crossed, on her bed.  
'Shoes.' she said, and he sat up, planting his feet on the floor.  
'What do you know about what they are involved in?'  
'Enough.' she knew the truth of it as she said it.   
'Fuck, Gus, I'm.' she shook her head, she didn't know what she was.  
'I know.' he opened his arms, but was hampered by the restraints.   
'Hmm, these are rather irritating.'  
She took them, her skin burning, turning them around to the pin. Silver, worked by a smith who knew what they were doing. 'They tired to hurt you. They would have done it too, they really would have.'  
'Yes.' he nodded, seriously, he pulled away his hands and bent to kiss her already mending wounds.   
'And you're thinking, if they would do that to me, what would they do to you?'  
She sat down beside him, pulling her legs up to sit lotus on the thin mattress. 'They think that I'm human, even with all the evidence to the contrary. They think I have a nice shiny soul and that I will live and die and go to Heaven.'  
He sniffed, pointedly 'I wish that you had trusted me with the truth. I thought that you loved me.'  
'I do!. You know that I do, I'm sorry. I am so sorry for lying, its just, well. Its a part of myself I never think about, I'm more ashamed of being half Angel than half Demon. I hate it, and my dad hated me so much for it.'  
He pressed his cheek to the top of her head, unable to wrap his arms around her sharp shoulders. 'Well, I forgive you, I suppose. After all, I didn't tell you that I had taken over Hell. Or what these boys were up to.'  
'Even Stephens.' she pulled away, stood up and went to put on her eyeliner. He watched her back as she moved and she caught him in the reflection. 'Yeah, they are always there, technically.' she guessed he was thinking about her Wings.  
'I always thought you were an Angel anyway!' he declared, dramatic as always.   
'So, you're going to introduce the chuckle brothers to your dad then?'  
She sighed. 'Looks like it. What do you know about the Mark of Cain?'  
They walked slowly down the hall, the brothers were in the kitchen, Dean was plating up eggs by the stove.  
'Well?” he asked, a false hardness to his tone. 'You decided to be a decent person yet or not?'  
'Fuck off.' she spoke without heat and slid onto the bench. 'Un-cuff Gus.'  
Sam looked up, shook his head. 'No way.'  
Crowley nudged her to speak and she took a moment to gather her thoughts. 'Cain isn't some immortal with a magic knife.' she began, poking her egg yolk with a chuck of bread.

'He was the first creature taken body and soul to Hell, to serve Lucifer. He was the first Son, the first Murderer, the first Knight and the first Demon. He made my mother what she is, or, well, he helped her to it anyway. They hate each other.'  
'Why did you grow up with him then?' Dean was toying with a key, a silver one engraved with a ward.  
'She owed him, its complicated. She killed his wife and he swore vengeance. When I was born she gave me to him a sort of downpayment on their feud. A life for a life. You see, he could easily have destroyed her, killed her, whatever, but he wouldn't because he had me.I was insurance.'  
'Cain could stop her, would he do it now, do you think?' Sam queried, sliding his food around on his plate.   
'I haven't seen my dad in years. I left when I was a kid cause he's a fucking dickhead, I don't know what he would do and I cannot sway him either way.'  
'But he doesn't have the Blade anymore, you said he got rid of it.' Sam pointed out.  
'Yeah, he did. Which brings us to a bit of a sticking point.'  
'The Mark of Cain.' Crowley said, hunkering down, as if the mere words had power.  
'Like in the bible? Thou art marked and vengeance shall come on you sevenfold- that thing?' Dean had finished his eggs, engaging in the conversation while eying up his brothers plate. He saw Crowley frown at him.  
'What? I read!'  
'The Mark is an actual thing, its a curse.' she explained, haltingly.   
'One half of a curse, the Blade is the second half, but it wasn't judgement from some god. Lucifer marked him, he put the curse of violence on him and bound it to the Blade. It made my dad the perfect killing machine, but it also made him uncontrollable. Even the Devil was afraid of him, in the end.'  
'Castiel always say the bible got more wrong than it did right. Ok, so, whats our plan?” Dean shook his head 'Theres a lot of magic and ancient curse nonsense, but he can stop Abaddon, right?'  
'We need to go visit my dad.' she said, finally, pushing away her food. They had decided this already, she realised. This course of action was set before they spoke of it with her. A heavy resignation in her chest, they didn't realise what it was they were looking for. She did, of course she did, and she would do it, for them. She swallowed, looking grim, then nodded.   
'I'll take you.'  
'So, how do we find him, or it?' Dean pulled on his jacket, patted his pockets down for his keys.  
'Follow the bees, theres a spell to do it.' she said, looking at his car key and shaking her head 'I'll drive.'  
'We gotta go to Europe?'  
'No, his house isn't in one place, it can be anywhere.' she didn't want to get into a debate about reality, or explain to them that, technically, the house existed in the Dreaming. The realm of Dreams that overlapped with Heaven, Hell, Earth and all the bits in between. She didn't think she could face their curiosity, if she was honest. She felt enough of a freak without bringing it up.  
Sam remained seated 'I'm gonna sit this out.' he looked very tired all of a sudden, his head hung down to his chest. Dean dropped a hand to his shoulder and patted it, kindly.  
'Stay safe.'  
As if, she thought, to herself. There is no safe, especially not after this. She should try to explain, she should let them know, but she couldn't. Crowley stood, keeping pace with her, she could almost hear his thoughts buzzing around inside his head. She felt his arm jostle against hers and looked up, a silent question in her eyes.  
'Promise me this wont get silly.' he flicked his eyes at Dean who had taken the front passenger seat.  
'It will be a lie if I do.' she turned the key in the engine. Wh the fuck was she going along with this.   
'We need a few things for this spell to work.'  
'Where to?' Dean asked, pulling out a map. She drove slowly down the lane to the cracked forest road.  
'Need to find a Soft Place, a place without much religion. Like the opposite of Mecca, if that makes any sense.'  
'Uh, ok? Is there a soft spot like that near by?'  
'Yes.' Crowley answered with a chuckle. 'In fact, there's one very nearby, probably why the Men of Letters built that monstrosity in this town. It's in Iona.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments welcome.  
> I did say there would be plot divergence didn't I?! In this story they are going straight to Cain and already understand the link between his Mark and the Blade. The part about Soft/Shifting Places is on of those things from Sandman that always stuck with me and here its mixed a little with the concept of negative power places that makes a show in American Gods at the hostel at the Centre of America. I want to go back to this and look at it a bit more in depth, as I have said, this work is a rough first draft!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Temperance.' Dean rarely used her full name, it was a mouthful of a word and he wanted her to know he cared, wanted her to know he liked her, so he called her by the abbreviation, he called her 'Tem'. He shook his head when she looked up.   
> 'No, we can do this another way.' He didn't care how much longer it took, he saw how wrong it had been to ask her to come here. He knew now what it was he had asked.  
> 'No, we can't'.   
> She slid off the old fashioned seat to the rag rug that covered the hardwood floor and held out her left arm.   
> Cain took it, his hand swallowed hers, it was massive and calloused. A strong hand, a hand that worked the land.  
> 'Temperance, there will come a time when you will have to stop me.  
> 'I know'.....
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

Dean flatly refused to free Crowley, hampering any instinct Temperance had to be helpful. She drove them to a strange bit of country, seemingly barren and empty, and into a poorly ploughed field. The car rocked on its suspension when she slammed the door.   
'How do you know this is the right place?' Dean asked.  
'Can't you feel it?' She knelt down, pushing her fingers into the dirt.   
He looked around, uncertainly, there was something wrong about being here. Something freaky, like being in a school after hours, or a library when all the books were gone. He toed the loose soil, frowning down at the beetles his boot dislodged. He looked back at the Demon in the Mitsubishi, Crowley had his eyes closed, his head resting back on the brown leather seat.  
Temperance had her eyes closed too, and against his better judgement, Dean screwed his own shut. It was like falling, he snapped them open again with a gasp. It was as if the earth beneath his feet had turned to water, he had plunged down for a a moment and only opening his eyes had saved him.   
'Soft Place.' Temperance explained 'It doesn't really know its real, you see.'  
'That makes less than no sense.' he carefully backed up to the car, while she worked.  
Sifting through the soil in front of her she drew a ward with her finger. One hand went into her jacket and pulled her knife free, before he could ask, she slashed it over her forearm, plunged it into the dirt and spat.   
Nothing happened, or nothing seemed to. She stood, brushed herself down and got into the car. The knees of her jeans were muddy but there was no trace of blood on her arm, the skin there was scared, now that he had the chance to see it. It had been carved up into a pattern and there was a tiny, homemade tattoo on her wrist.   
He knew that she needed that to get into the Bunker, before the final Trail he had asked Castiel to look into changing the protection on the place, for her. Now that he knew what she was he wondered if that was going to be possible.  
She backed out of the field and Dean became aware of a growing buzz on insects around them. She pointed, unnecessarily to a swarming mass of bees. 'That way.'  
They drove all day and into the night, following the trail of bees down narrow dirt roads into places that Dean didn't recognise, towns that looked wrong, woods that were too dark, too tropical. He kept zoning out, only to find the land outside the car was different each time he did.  
The house and surrounding farm lands emerged from a scant forest, suddenly, a sharp fork in the road leading them through a wooden gate.   
'Here we are.' Temperance said, in a low, expressive voice. Those words were laced with trepidation, they were a warning.  
Temperance tensed, her hands were white on the wheel and her breathing seemed to stop altogether. A man was heading to the door, he paused to watch them park. She got out of the car first and waited, Dean followed, on leaden feet.  
Looks can be deceiving, Dean knew that, Cain didn't look like an ancient killer. He was a handsome man, he could have been in his 50's, a neat greying beard and moustache and slicked back steely hair. His eyes were precisely the same dark grey as Temperances's, which Dean noticed right away, but didn't know what to make of.   
Cain had an imposing air and stood with his arms loose, feet planted, surveying them like they were targets, downrange. Dean wanted to snap to attention and salute.  
'So thats where you learned that from?' Crowley asked, sliding behind Temperance, trying to keep out of the mans line of sight. She was silent, looking over her father without anger, without hate. He nodded to her and walked to the house.   
'Come on.' she said, leading the way.  
The front door opened into a neat panelled halfway and led to an old-fashioned kitchen. Cain had set down an armload of corn on the table and began to shuck it.   
'Make tea' he said, not looking up, and Temperance obliged. After an awkward silence she set down a pot and said.   
'Dad, these are my friends, Gus and Dean.'  
Dean replayed that in his head, Gus and Dean. Crowley the King of Hell, who's a Demon by the way dad, just like you used to be and Dean Winchester, he's just some guy, just a Hunter, he almost got me killed and he wants to kill mom. She had every right to be angry at him and Sam, he got that she was fuming just beneath the surface, but the way she threw out his name stung a little.  
Cain seemed to x-ray them, with those quick dark eyes, Dean felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand upright and repressed a shudder as the man spoke.   
'Demons aren't friends, and Hunters shouldn't be trusted.' his tone was rich, it seemed to flow, mercurial, between a familiar American accent, something faintly touched with French, and something Dean couldn't pin down at all.   
It occurred to him, looking away from this man who was as old as time itself, that he wasn't really seeing him. Dean was seeing, something, someone that he expected to see. He wondered who Temperance saw, when she looked at her father, then with a rush of prickly understanding, he wondered what did she see when she looked at herself. He doubted now that she saw a skinny girl with dark hair.  
'The only two things you and Mam ever agreed on.' She passed out cups, put the pot in the middle of the table. She seemed to force herself to keep her tone light.  
'She's causing problems.'  
'Yes.' he moved onto the next ear of golden corn, pausing to sip his tea. He seemed disinclined to look at his daughter, much less speak to her.   
'I could stop her.' this sentence delivered so lightly, so gently, that Crowley frowned at his friend and flicked a curious look at Dean. She had put up a front, a mask, she didn't trust her father and she clearly did not want to be there.  
'You could.' Cain paused in the act of reaching for more corn and looked at her, really looked at her. A flicker of his eyes, a widening of his flared nostrils, she sagged when he finally looked away.  
'You raised me to.' she said.  
Dean hated that hew as watching this, like a spectator. She said she hadn't seen her dad in years, since before she came to the States, she had said he had been a shit parent and her childhood was fucked. She didn't want to be here, she didn't want to speak with him and she didn't want him to kill her mother. Dean suddenly wished, to the bottom of his heart, that he had not bullied her into this.  
Cain absently pushed a small honey pot towards Temperance as she picked up her tea, examining the two men with his dark eyes. That familiar gesture wasn't lost on Dean, a father who knew what his kid liked.  
'Dean Winchester.' Dean said, deciding not to shake his hand.  
'I know' he rolled his eyes to Crowley, seemed to sniff the air and stated.  
'You're not one of mine.'  
'More recently deceased. I'm only 300.' Crowley explained.  
Cain didn't waste a nod or comment on this, he looked back to Dean and spoke in the same level voice. 'You want to destroy Abaddon?'  
'Yes, sir.' He did, he really did. He wanted to shred that hell bitch and burn the remains. She threatened his family, his world. She was neatly stacked into the part of his brain marked 'bad guys'. A stack that he was happy to reduce.  
'You can't, you lack the strength.' Cain said, bluntly.  
'If you would give us the Blade we could.' Dean tried an air of gravitas but Cain cut him off with a snarl, slamming his fist down on the table, making the cups rattle. The change was so sudden Dean thought he might have gotten whiplash. Temperance had frozen, her wide eyes on the wall, hands clawed around her cup.  
'You cannot wield it, you cannot being to understand the power that is needed. To bare that curse and not give in.' His voice was eerily level after the physical outburst. The kitchen clock ticked loudly above the door.  
'I can.' Temperance sounded so terribly sad all of a sudden that even Cain seemed shocked by it. They all looked at her, her tone was small, young, brimming with a pain she couldn't give voice to. She was resigned, Dean realised, like she had made an impossible decision and would accept the consequences.  
'I can.' she said again, stronger this time.  
Crowley cleared his throat, cutting through the weighty silence. 'Sir, allow me to talk you through our, eh, current troubles.'  
'No.' Cain said, picking up more corn and turning his face aside.  
'Her minions are already on the way.'

Temperance scowled, she was herself once more, or the version that Dean knew. 'Thanks for the fucking heads up.' she spat, knocking back her tea and setting the cup back on its saucer.   
Dean had risen to his feet, hand on his knife. Plan, they needed a plan. This Temperance was familiar, this woman of action. He looked at the back door, it was narrow, a good funnel point.   
'Language.' Cain admonished not looking up as she rose, gracefully, and went to the window.  
'Your wards?' She touched Dean's elbow, calling his attention and pulling him back from the kitchen door.   
'I'm thinking about taking them down.' Cain explained, hands on his work.  
She closed her eyes, seemed to count slowly to ten. 'Dean, lock the front door and windows.'  
He dashed into the hall and stole a look at the pictures lining the walls, the young little girl that would grow up to be Temperance. Here she was holding a cello in a pink skirted dress. With a sandcastle in a stripped bathing suit, ice cream melting over a chubby fist. A tiny baby bundled up in a white blanket. There was a framed drawing, a house and two stick people rendered in crayon. Wobbly spelling proclaiming 'My Family' at the base.   
The door to the front room was ajar, he pushed it open. It was her bedroom, a teenagers bedroom. The narrow bed was made with a lacy white fabric that matched the curtains. The pine headboard was engraved with runes, and strung with fairy lights. There was a chipped yellow basin with a round mirror, a wardrobe that had been plastered with posters so the laminate barely showed through. Books were stacked around the skirting board and the bedside locker was littered with earrings, note paper, a plastic bracelet from with some sort of band logo stamped across it, a bottle of black nail polish and three throwing knives, the flat hilts engraved with a cross.   
He shut the door, glanced up the stairs, the bathroom door was open there, and the other door shut, no doubt her dads bedroom. He locked the front door quickly and hurried back to the kitchen, where Temperance had shoved Gus into a corner.  
'They're coming' she explained, drawing a ward under his feet.  
'You, Hunter, stay back.' Cain didn't even look up from his work.  
'No way.' Dean snarled. He was not going to let her face anything alone, whatever came through those doors was going to be against him too. He had caused her enough trouble the past few days, he wasn't going to let anything hurt her again.  
'Winchester just fucking do it!' Temperance shed her jacket, looking so much like her father that he thought twice about complaining. He went to Crowley, felt a strange sensation as he crossed some invisible barrier. The Demon King was silent, he barely blinked, locking his eyes onto his friend. At the table, Cain continued to strip his corn, humming softly to himself.   
Six demons came rushing through the door, heavily armed and warriors all. Her father barely looked up from his task, sighing audibly when his daughters body crashed into the wall and broke a little plate hanging there. The first creature fell quickly to her knife, but the second had managed to get an arm around her and toss her aside. The blue delph caught her cheek as it broke, opening up a shallow wound.   
She was on her feet in an instant, beating them back, she fought without style, as Dean had always noticed, a scrappy violence. One by one they fell, until the last slumped and she slid down against the back of the upturned couch, panting for breath. His eyes could barely follow it, it left a half formed impression burned into his retina.   
He blinked, the Demons were dead, or banished or both. Bodies lay in a tangle around the room and Temperance was still breathing.   
She pulled herself up and shakily wiped blood from her chin. The knife went into its sheath, she looked around. The ward around the men dropped and Crowley shot forward, his hands out to steady her.   
'You've gotten sloppy, but you are strong, very strong. Stronger than this. Six Demons should not have caused you trouble.' Cain had finally set his corn husks aside, he washed his hands at he sink and turned around to her.  
She glared at him. 'Fuck you.' The first word long, disappointed, not said in anger, just in hate. There was the Punk that Dean had met months ago, damn, she was scary.  
'What will you do to your mother?' Cain straightened the chairs around the table and dusting his hands together.  
Temperance did that, when she was embarrassed, Dean had only seen her embarrassed once to notice it. She had been playing music, he had stopped by the door and watched, her eyes closed. Headphones on her ears had cancelled out the noise, she hadn't known he was there and once she did there was no blush, not that he expected one, just that little motion of her hands scrubbing together as she laid the instrument aside.  
'I don't know.' Temperance voice a little tight once more.  
Dean was checking through the bodies, no special weapons, no powers, just pawns. The first wave, he frowned and quickly looked through the shattered door. More would come, he was sure of it.   
He caught sight of the withering look Cain gave Temperance. Cain looked at her without love, without mercy, not like a father to a child, like a general to a soldier.   
'You want to chain her up for eternity. You think that would stop her?'  
'I can't kill her.' she said, in a small broken voice  
'Yes. You can, and you will.' Her dad dipped his chin, welding his eyes to her with a look.  
'She's my mother.'   
'I am your father' he said, in a manner that brooked no argument.   
'That monster is not your mother, she didn't raise you, she doesn't love you.'  
'Neither do you.'  
Cain picked up the broken halves of the plate. Dean saw now that it was painted with a drippy love heart, 'Dad' scrawled across in a childish hand.  
Temperance looked up at Cain a truly painful look etched across her face. Dean never wanted to be on the end of that one, disgust, hatred, loathing, anguish. How Cain didn't flinch from it Dean didn't know.  
'I fucking hate both of you.' and her voice tore at something Dean didn't know was there, some part of his heart where his sympathy lay.   
'You are an abomination' Cain picked up his cup, placed it in the sink.  
'What?' Dean spat, jumping to put himself between Cain and Temperance, he had no words for his disgust. This was her father, her fucking father.   
'The hell is wrong with you, she's your daughter! How can you act like this?'  
Cain held up a broad hand for silence. 'My daughter is what she is, she is not ashamed, nor am I. She is an abomination, an affront to Heaven and to Hell. She can kill her mother and it will not damage her soul, she doest have one.' His eyes never left her face, each word a blow.  
Temperance's hand went to her chest, pressed hard to her sternum, she swallowed with distaste. Nodded.   
'Kneel.' he said shortly.  
'Temperance.' Dean rarely used her full name, it was a mouthful of a word and he wanted her to know he cared, wanted her to know he liked her, so he called her by the abbreviation, he called her 'Tem'. He shook his head when she looked up.   
'No, we can do this another way.' He didn't care how much longer it took, he saw how wrong it had been to ask her to come here. He knew now what it was he had asked.  
'No, we can't'.   
She slid off the old fashioned seat to the rag rug that covered the hardwood floor and held out her left arm.   
Cain took it, his hand swallowed hers, it was massive and calloused. A strong hand, a hand that worked the land.  
'Temperance, there will come a time when you will have to stop me.'  
'I know.' she didn't flinch from her dad's face, she understood. It settled around her like a robe.  
'I am sorry for it.'   
Dean didn't believe the honesty in his voice, he looked hard at Cain settling a thought in his mind. If that guy had to go down, he, Dean, would do it, not Temperance. He wouldn't let her go through that.   
Temperance's lip twitched but she made no move to speak, just nodded again and waited. From Cain's fingers there seemed to flow, like blood, blistering power and magic. It coiled around her arm, pushing the damaged skin up from beneath, like bubbles through water. Her skin distorted, it must hurt, it must hurt so much more than she was letting on. A perfect circle of scar tissue bloomed there, then the power seemed to recede and Cain, tottering slightly, let go. She got to her feet, looking grim.   
'The knife?' her voice didn't shake.  
Dean went to her side, he touched her wrist, looked down at her arm. He hated the sight of it, hated the thought of it. Whatever that curse was, that thing that now marked her skin and flowed through her veins, he hated it. It was a curse and he asked her to bare it, without really thinking about what it meant.   
'You must find it. Go, now, more are coming.' Cain said, dismissing them.  
'Dad.' she turned at the back door, one hand on the door knob.  
'Daughter.' he said, with a curt nod. Nothing to be said.  
Through the panic Dean felt a little stab of pity. He had gotten to say goodbye to his dad, it was a small thing, but nothing as big as this. Daughter, thats what Cain had said, his last word to her, maybe his last word ever, claiming her as his own.

They hurried to the car and Temperance slid it into gear, driving quickly, erratically, to the boundary line. Behind them a white light seemed to envelope the house and a roar of noise crested over them. The force of it lifting the battered old machine off its tyres.  
She slammed her hands on the steering wheel as the car bounced on its wheezing suspension.   
'Fuck!' she screeched. 'Fuck, fuck, mother fucking fuck!' angry tears slid down her face and she bared her teeth to keep back the howls.   
Dean could only look on, impotently, in horrified silence. She choked on her breath, shook her head, then put the car back into gear. The road was blessedly empty, no one spoke until she pulled into a station for fuel.  
'Take his cuffs off.' she said, not looking at Dean.  
He sighed, fished the keys from his pocket and reached into the back seat. He would have freed Crowley eventually, would have preferred to knife him and be done with it. The Demon rubbed his wrists thoughtfully and put a cautious hand on her shoulder.  
'See you soon, darling.' and he was gone. He had been silent for most of this jaunt, Dean felt the Demon's eyes linger a moment on on him before he vanished.  
She snarled, fingers white on the dark leather steering wheel. The emotion that gripped her seemed to fight for a place between the Angel and the Demon, coiling like a snake as she pushed at it, trying to tie it up in the new mark on her arm.  
Dean filled up the engine, and paid in the small store. The clerk was a grey old lady, flipping through a magazine. She smiled up at him and told him to have a 'Great day, hon.' He wished he would, just for once.  
Gently he coaxed Temperance to drive seeing as she looked welded to the seat.   
'I don't know what you're going through, I don't know how much this hurts. I'm here, we're here. You know that right?' he said, looking at her, earnestly.  
She nodded. 'We have to find that fucking knife.'   
The knife, Crowley's brilliant idea, that dick. He wanted to ask if Crowley knew about her dad, if he had done this on purpose. If so, what the hell was his end game. Instead he said   
'We'll find it, we'll stop Abaddon and then we will get that thing off you, ok?'   
He took her hand as they stopped at a deserted traffic light. She looked down at his fingers, he knew she saw his firm skin stark in contrast against her own, which was a scar riddled mess, her skin looked unhealthy, sallow and chapped. Her nails were ragged and broken. He felt a little twinge in his heart again, had anyone ever taken care of her, the way he took care of Sammy growing up. Had anyone ever really loved her, just for herself. He didn't know, but he wanted to do that for her, he wanted to take care of her. Clearly she was no use at taking care of herself.   
'Ok.' she agreed, putting the car into gear and heading West.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley cleared his throat. 'Darling, you're tired.' he began.  
> 'Sick and fucking tired of mother fucking Winchesters and the crater sized chip on their fucking shoulders! You treat me like a fucking thing, a fucking weapon that you own! I'm a person, I exist, I need more than death and destruction on a daily basis.' her voice cracked and she dug the heel of her hands into her eyes.  
> 'You said it yourself.' Dean spat, disgusted with her, and with himself.   
> 'Killing is all you're good for!'.....
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

Temperance had thought that her power had been at war before, but it was nothing compared to this. Ten minutes of having it on her arm and she was ready to forgive Cain everything and declare him a saint.   
It felt so much worse than pain, both sides of her nature writhed away from it and it oozed into the cracks between. The Mark was a curse and it hated her, she was sure. It screamed inside her body looking for a way out, it pushed and tumbled and boiled and she didn't know how to stop it, maybe blood would stop it, maybe death would stop it. She knew this, she had expected it, but the difference between hearing what her dad had always said and feeling it were two very different things. She didn't think she could keep it in check, not like he did.   
She requisitioned a faraway bedroom as a music room and spent the day arranging her instruments, soundproofing the walls and dragging old carpets over the floors. She screwed the drums together, opened a black rucksack filled with sticks and music sheets. She put on her headphones, the good ones, the noise canceling ones that cost too much money and she could never justify buying. Her ex had given them to her, her ex that she tired not to think about, which was hard when his bass was sitting in the corner.   
There was a few songs she liked to play when she was angry, or when she was sad. One of these blossomed to mind now, the beat wasn't complex, it was familiar. It was one of those awful songs that people liked, it was the first song she learned on the drums in that warehouse when she was 16. A great song, for an angry runaway.  
She was an angry kid, she didn't think she had ever gotten passed being an angry kid. Now she was a fucking ball of ancient cursed rage on top of that. How had Cain lived like this, everyday since the beginning.   
She began to count herself in, at the last violent clash of symbols the drum stick fell from numb fingers as she hissed and slapped a hand to the burning brand on her arm. She looked away, breathing through her nose and counting down the seconds. Pain that wasn't pain, rage made alive, real and bright. She was so angry, she was so, so angry.   
Slowly she came back to herself, whatever herself was, taking stock of her body Temperance looked up.  
There was an Angel looking at her, she stood, waiting. He looked like a puppy dog, lost and unsure. 'You took the Mark.'  
'Hi, yes I did.' she dropped her hand from her sheathed knife, stood and led him to the lounge.   
He walked ahead of her and sat awkwardly on an old leather seat. 'I wished to speak to you, but I was detained by circumstance.' he paused.   
'You got kicked out of Heaven?'  
'Yes.'  
Castiel looked worn down, a little less neat and tidy than when she had first met him.  
'Are you injured?'  
He blinked, looked up at her with a forced type of stoicism and shook his head.  
'My Grace is depleted.'  
She wondered what that must feel like, having the Grace ebb from you. The poor fucker was locked out of Heaven, he must be suffering, but he he didn't share it with her. Which was fair enough, they didn't really know each other yet.  
'I know your father.' he said.  
'Which one?' she sank into the sagging sofa.   
'My brother Michael.' he explained.   
The Archangel, the father that actively wanted to kill her. That father.  
'I know him well, I did not know that he had a daughter.'  
'Listen, Castiel, can we not talk about him?'   
He pouted a little, nodded and said. 'We can talk about human pursuits, you enjoy music and recklessly abuse narcotics and alcohol?'  
She almost smiled at that, their eyes met for just a fraction of a second and she thought, he did make a good Angel, he was nice.  
'Woah! Buddy! Not cool!' Dean rounded a corner, hearing that last sentence.   
'Cas is gonna be staying with us more often.' This he directed at Temperance, dropping into the seat next to the Angel with a smile.   
'This guy here has been amazing, he's a big help.'  
'I have rewritten the protection around this Bunker, you should not need to keep your Norse sigil in place.' Castiel explained.  
'Thanks.' she was exhausted, she realised, she was more tired than she could remember being. It was an effort not to tear the brothers to shreds, or tear herself up instead.  
Dean was beaming at the Angel, he cuffed him on the shoulder in thanks for his work. She tried to match his smile, maybe it was more of a grimace. She didn't smile often, and almost never properly, she was out of practice.   
Castiel stared very hard at her, clearly not great at being in a body or being among humans, he seemed to be trying to see into her.  
'I can't hear you, I cannot see you properly like this. Are you warded?'  
'Yes. Usually.' she touched her wrist.  
'I cannot aid you this way, if you call I cannot hear.' he stood, swiftly.   
'Come, Sister, I will open your mind to mine.'  
'What? No! Feck off, bad Angel!.' she slapped his well meaning hands away, panic flaring in her gut.  
'No, I am good and righteous.' he said as he reached again.  
'Cas, remember we talked about personal space' Dean pointed out.   
'Please, leave my head alone. Its a hot mess.' she covered her ears for emphasis.   
The Angel sat, he nodded slowly. 'How can you call for me if I cannot find you?'  
'I'll, I dunno, I'll fucking text you.'  
He cocked his head to the side, put his hand into his coat and pulled out a phone 'I am almost out of minutes.'  
That did make her crack a smile, she wasn't sure if he had been trying to get her to do that all along. She wondered, briefly, what his number was. Crowley's was, typically, 666, maybe Castiel had gone for 777, the threefold trinity. The opposite of the number of the beast, in biblical terms.   
'We do need to speak about your father, about my brother Michael.' Castiel urged, bouncing back to their original topic.  
'Why?' she sighed, it seemed that he wasn't likely to drop it.  
'There has been a change. In Heaven, as you know, things are not as they were.'  
'Yeah, well. Closing off bits of reality from each other will do that.' she snapped, she had been wanting to point that out for quite a while.   
Dean pointedly ignored this jibe and asked. 'Whats the problem?'  
'Michael is recruiting angels to his banner, he thinks the time has come to destroy evil once and for all. That what happened was prophesied and is a sign of our Lord's return.'  
Temperance barked a short laugh at that, then frowned, leaning forward in her seat.   
'Wait, return? As in not there right now? He's still M.I.A?'  
'Indeed.' Cas slumped.   
'What a cunt.'  
'The Archangel closed Heaven, but he only cast out the Angels that he did not think would support him. I am afraid that some of them are already dead from the fall.'  
'Tem, have you ever met him, Michael?” Dean was rubbing his lips, looking thoughtfully at Castiel.  
'No, well, not really. I've seen him, but he couldn't see me. I told you once before, I went to Heaven to find out something about him.' she cast a guilty look at Castiel' before continuing.  
'Something that could kill him. He tried to kill me, plenty of times before my dad, before Cain, got the warding on me right. He hates me, he was glad I was a secret, that I couldn't bring shame on him, but he wanted me dead and gone.'  
'Shit. Thats pretty rough.' Dean reached out as if to pat her arm, but thought better of it, he curled his hand into a fist and dropped it on the back of the couch.   
'He's no looking for me, at the moment. Out of sight, out of mind.' she said with a shrug.  
'He wants to destroy Abaddon, then find Lucifer and destroy him to.' Castiel copied her movement in his seat, leaning forward.  
'Kill' she said, firmly. She hated this convoluted American approach to the word. They seemed to think saying 'Destroy' was more acceptable than saying 'Kill' even when they meant to kill someone. You couldn't sanitise murder, you couldn't say it was execution or justice. Sam and Dean had a habit of shying away from the word, even though they, like Temperance, were killers.  
'He wants to kill, not destroy. You destroy things, you kill people.'  
'They aint people.'' Dean spat.  
The voluminous silence would have smothered her, a sharp flame of anger burned through her throat and she clapped a hand over her Mark, breathing heavily as it stung.   
'I'm going to bed'. she spoke, before anyone could comment. She needed to not be there, she needed to not be around anyone, she was tainted, unclean. Something that wasn't her heart hammered in her chest, trying to get out.  
Dean waved to her from his seat and flicked on the TV, in the blueish light of the set she thought she saw Castiel's wings, neat and tidy on his back.   
A week passed in a dreary manner, one morning she found her feet moving to Sam's room, she opened his door, he wasn't there. She crossed the floor to his bedside locked and glared at it.  
'Tem!' He put a hand to his chest, frozen in the door way. His eyes darted between her and the drawer.  
'Its here.' she said.  
He paused, gathered his courage. 'Yeah, Crowley found it.'  
'It's been like an itch in the back of my head all week. It's calling out to me.' she barely blinked.  
'Tem, I don't think you should touch it.' he pressed.  
'I don't want to, but it wants me to.' she finally turned away, it took more effort than she anticipated.

Dean called from the kitchen, they both looked up and followed the sound of his voice.  
'We got company.' he spat. Crowley was standing by the sink.  
Temperance went to him and hugged him, briefly, then took cups from the rack and began to make tea. It was a routine, he arrived, she made tea. She could be drinking the stuff already, but the kettle went on as his shiny shoes hit the floor. It was part of the ritual or pretending she was normal.  
'We've been working on a plan, for Abaddon.' Sam explained, scrubbing his tired eyes.  
'Oh yeah, go on.' she was filling the kettle at the sink, her back to them.  
'Yeah, its, difficult. Castiel's been telling us whats going on in Heaven and, um, if we can sort out Hell he reckons that he can sort out Heaven.'  
'Sort out Hell, by killing Abaddon.' she said blankly.  
'Killing Demons, like actually killing them is hard.' Sam ground his teeth and looked at his notes.  
'The older ones especially.' Dean yawned.  
'And my mother is ancient. One of the first humans to be made Demon.' she said, in her light, agreeable tone. The Mark wasn't burning bright, but it was unsettled on her arm. She knew the knife was near by, it was, strange, it was soothing.  
'We reckon the best bet is an ambush.' Sam went on.  
'Get her when her guard is down?' Crowley asked, flicking lint from his sleeve.  
'I thought we could bait her, set up one of us and then when she distracted, wham!' Dean made a chopping motion with his hand.  
Temperance spun around, snarling, the Mark was glowing golden beneath her shirt. They could see it through the fabric. With obvious effort she managed to form coherent words.  
'She's my fucking mother, don't fucking talk about her like that!'  
'She tried to kill you by the sounds of things, she tried to kill us!' Sam held out his hands and glanced at his brother, who was scowling.  
'Tem, come on, she aint exactly an upstanding citizen. She's evil.' Dean pointed out.  
'I don't give a fuck about your ideas of good and evil.' she turned aside.   
'You interfere with shit you don't understand and it always goes pear-shaped.' she muttered darkly.  
Sam's face fell, he looked down at her arm, and put a far too careful hand to the gun on his belt.  
'Cut the crap, Tem. We know she's gotta go down, you can't keep changing your mind about this. You took the Mark, now use it!' Dean slapped the table for emphasis.  
She closed her eyes, massaging her arm over her sleeve. She hadn't meant to get so upset. She knew what she had to do, or she thought that she did.  
'It makes everything seem so much worse. Its inside me, like a snake coiled around my brain dripping poison onto every good thought, every ordinary thing. I've never felt like this, I feel so outside of things, outside of everything, looking in.'  
'We can help.' Sam insisted, he didn't take his hand off the gun.   
'You know we wanna help.'  
She flicked her shifting eyes over the pair of them, shaking her head. 'You just don't get it, you have each other. I'm alone.'  
'You've got me' Crowley pointed out, sounding a little put out.  
Dean snorted. 'You got us. You're part of our family, no need to get so melodramatic.'  
She picked up a glass that had appeared with Crowley, knocked back its contents and eyed the gleaming crystal.   
'Family.' she said blankly, rolling the word around on her whiskey stained tongue. She felt how erratic her mood was, a kaleidoscope of feeling, it whirled through her and she didn't know what would take her down a dark path. She pushed the glass towards Crowley.  
'My Mam was always good to me. She was kind, in her own way. She would take me to the cinema, or out shopping or whatever and tell me how wonderful I was.' She looked back at the men now, already sorry for her outburst.   
'So I don't want to kill her, but I know I have to. You wrap your fucking head around that'.  
'I know.' Crowley said, and they way he said it made them all look at him. He took Temperance's hand and kissed it.   
'I know.'  
It was easy to believe that he did know, that he could empathise with her, he seemed to have forgotten the Hunters, his words were just for her. She bowed her head and let him fold her into an embrace. His cold gaze lingering just a moment on the brothers before he looked down at her, tenderly.   
'You can do this, because you have to, because you are stronger than anyone, maybe as strong as Lucifer himself.'  
'Killing is all I'm good at.' her voice muffled by his shirt.   
'Oh, come now, darling. You're wonderful, you can cook, you can make music, you can dance. You have a wonderful mind for language.'  
'You're a survivor. You can do this.' Dean said, a little bluntly.  
She pulled away from Crowley, and nodded. 'I know, I'm just not ready to face it, not yet.'  
'Come on, darling, your exhausted, you need to rest.' Crowley walked with her to her room, glancing a moment at disorder. She sat down heavily on her bed, plucked up a bottle of gin from the nightstand.   
'Oi!' he pinched it out of her fingers.   
'It's eleven in the morning.'  
'You told me to go to bed, it's a fucking nightcap.' she scowled, leaning against the stained wall.  
'You need to rest.' he sniffed, primly, tugging her shoes off and pushing her down onto the pillow.  
'When's the last time you slept?'  
'Dunno.' she closed her eyes and he pulled the rumpled duvet over her shoulders. He clicked off the lights and frowning deeply, he vanished, leaving her alone, in the dark. 

They left her sleeping, treading quietly through the Bunker. Dean was in the garage packing up kit bags when something caught his eye. Her car. The front tyre looked a little soft.He kicked it, bent down to press a hand to it.   
'I can fix that.' he decided.  
Six hours later the machine was on the ramp and he had given it an oil change, defogged the headlamps and replaced the clutch cable. It was ancient, stretched out and frayed, he wondered how she had been getting the damn thing into gear. He wasn't sure what to do about the brittle rubber seals on the windows, he didn't have anything to replace them with, but he got the electrics working and gave the body a wax.   
'Poor car.' he muttered, patting the hood with a polishing rag. 'I'll take care of you, don't worry.'  
'Its a miracle it survived as long as it did, with me.' she was sitting on the bench, she must have been there a while.  
'I should book you for neglect.' he joked, wiping his hands.  
'Oh, officer, please. I wont come quietly.'  
He spluttered at that, then saw she was laughing. 'You make jokes now?”  
'I'm actually very funny.' she said, uncrossing her legs and hopping to her feet.   
'Seriously, it's my defining feature.'  
'Sure.' he smiled, she looked happy. Or at least, she looked less sad, there was still something haunted about her eyes.  
'Thanks for giving it a check up.'  
'Anytime. If I wasn't a Hunter I reckon I'd have been a mechanic, my dad taught me pretty well when I was growing up.' they ended up in the kitchen, he made coffee in a bulbous pot and took milk fro the fridge.  
'Or a detective! Man, that'd be so fricken cool.'  
'Getting paid to do what you do anyway?' she asked, he saw her hitch her almost smile on.  
'Get a pension, and no supernatural crap.' he wondered what his dad would say to that, if he had been alive to see that happen.  
'Music.' she said, with a nod, continuing his theme.  
'That was always my thing. I keep on trying but, you know, the life just sort of sucks you back in.'  
He knew that well, he had tried to be normal, once, for a while. He was born and raised a Hunter, he didn't get to be normal. She had been raised like that to, he knew now that she had been raised to kill Demons, to kill her mother. He couldn't imagine having that rammed down his throat his whole life.  
'I don't hear you play the cello much, you prefer the drums?' he passed her a cup, poured steaming coffee with a generous hand.  
'I need new strings.' the way she said it made him think she didn't want to get into it. She scrubbed her hands together, tucked her hair behind her ears and looked down at her coffee.  
'Shit.' he said, startling her enough that she looked up again. She raised her brow in question.  
'You don't like coffee.' he said, taking the cup back from her.  
She did smile then, god thought that he might like that smile.  
'Hey! Got a job!.' Sam announced, appearing around the door with his laptop. Temperance bowed out while they talked over it, she wasn't in the head space for it and, if he was honest, Dean was worried about what she would do, what the Mark would do, if they got into trouble. 

When they went Hunting, leaving her behind, she would bounce around the massive house playing music, training, occasionally getting blind drunk and waking up on the bathroom floor. The silence pressing in on her, the call of that stupid knife worming into her mind. 'Fuck sake!' she hissed, one morning, tearing off her boxing gloves and pummeling her bare fists into the stone wall 'Shut up!'  
Her skin split and healed, the blood on the wall flaking away. She stared down at her hands, and announced to the silence. 'Fuck it.'  
That sacred space of learning, that place made to equip mankind in the fight against evil, had everything those men who built it needed to live. It was not enough for her, the town was not enough for her, the continent was not enough for her. She wanted to see a band, a DJ, an old lad with a tin whistle, anything. She wanted to feel alive.   
In her room, rimming her eyes with black eyeliner she caught sight of a creased photo on the door. She straightened it with a finger, her ex, his best friend and a Witch in a tight waistcoat.   
Her ex, were they even ex's, she wondered, were they something even less friendly. They hadn't broken up, more fallen apart. He had left her with Papa Midnite, a Voodoo priest in New Orleans who was old when the USA was founded. He had told her he couldn't deal with her shit anymore and that he didn't want her to go with him. That had been right after his best friend had died, right after that kind Londoner had dropped them back to her flat one night.   
It had been raining, she remembered, it rained for days afterwards. In the photo he, her ex, was looking right at the camera. His eyes shone with their own light, sharp cheekbones glinting in the sun, he wasn't smoking, for once. She tapped the photo, turned away.   
She wanted to call him. Or kill him, or fuck him. Honestly, she wasn't sure what was going on in her head anymore.  
When the boys returned, she was gone. A day went by, then another.   
Dean called Crowley.  
'What do you mean gone?' he roared.  
'As in she aint here and she aint answering her phone!' he threw the note at the Demon, scowling.   
Crowley eyed it, glanced at his own phone and began to fiddle with the buttons. 'Ah' he said after a while, holding up a map on which a small light was pulsing.   
'Gotcha.' He snapped his fingers and with a whoosh of air and sound, they left the States and their feet settled firmly in a run down industrial building packed to the brim with people.  
'What is this place?' Dean asked as Crowley snapped his fingers again and got a table.  
'It's a club.' he rolled his eyes, calling over a waiter.  
'Yeah, but where?'  
'Berlin.' he nodded to the dance floor.  
The floor was flashing different colours, illuminating the crowd from below and a massive DJ both was churning out grinding sounds for them to dance to. Temperance was spinning and bouncing in time with the awful, repetitive, techno beat. Her hair was loose and wild, even at a distance Dean could see that her eyeliner was smeared and her lipstick was smudged.  
'She's?'  
'Yes.' the demon tutted, glancing at the Day-Glo yellow cocktail he had been handed.   
'High as a kite, I'd say.'  
Dean groaned, stood up and hurried into the crowd, he had to force a few topless guys out of the way, sidestep a woman in a pink boiler suit who was blowing bubbles with an electric wand and when he finally got to her and turned her around by the shoulder and she started dancing with him, eyes closed.  
'Tem!' he shouted over the music, her eyes opened, huge and black and staring.  
'Dean?' he saw her mouth move, but couldn't hear over the music, she was still dancing as she reached out and touched his face, mauling his cheeks with confused fingers. He pulled her from the floor and over to the booth. She tumbled in, noticed Crowley and smiled. A slow, stoned smile.   
'What did you take?” he asked, curiously.  
'MDMA' she sighed, rubbing her collarbone, appearing to enjoy the feel of her skin. 'And a pill, or two 'cause I don't think the MDMA was working.'   
'Ready to go?'  
'No!' she pouted. Her lips were raw and she kept gnawing at them and her eyes were too wide, she stared too much and didn't blink often enough.   
'Tem!' Dean frowned and she turned her face away, like a petulant child.   
'Come on, Crowley, lets get out of here.'

He transported them to a hotel, a nice one. He gave her a bottle of some sports drink and told her to sip it. She did, starting to crash already, a shiver in her limbs.  
'MDMA?'  
'Cheap MDMA.' she said, her was jaw clenching and her words came out more clipped than usual.  
'Free MDMA.'  
'Ah' Crowley reached into a pocket, pulled out a tiny glass vial and snapped it under her nose. She gasped, her face flushing red then draining to grey. She hopped to her feet and dived for the bathroom, the door was thick enough that they didn't hear her being violently ill.   
Dean tried to ignore Crowley while they waited. The Demon seemed content to sit, leg crossed over knee and watch him pace around the room. Temperance emerged a longtime later, showered and looking annoyed.   
'What do you want?” she asked, her voice a little hoarse.   
Crowley shot his cuffs, pointed with his chin to Dean who scowl could only deepen.   
'You just skipped out.' he said, sullenly.  
'I left a note.'  
'A note? You left a message on a post-it saying you had to go see a band!'  
'Which was true.'  
'Three days ago!'  
She shrugged, picking her nails. 'I wanted to be alone.'  
'Well, you don't get to be, not till we finish this.'  
Her eyes flashed. 'Not until I kill my family?' her voice a hiss.  
'Yeah.' he said, all affection gone, as his anger boiled over. He had been shit scared, he thought Abaddon had taken her, or Cain, he thought she might have gone on a fucking murder spree.  
'You finish this job then you can go melt your brain however you want.'  
'This job that you fucking started? You chopped up my ma, you decided to try and close off fucking Hell! You're the one who made this all happen and you couldn't fucking finish it!'  
'Oh shut up!' he yelled.   
'All you ever fucking do is complain! You wanna make things right then you gotta do this, like you said you would!'  
'I agreed to hunt monsters with you, I agreed to assist you in not fucking dying when you decided to delve into things beyond your comprehension Excuse me for wanting a break now that my fucking mind is being fucking poisoned by a fucking curse!'  
Crowley cleared his throat. 'Darling, you're tired.' he began.  
'Sick and fucking tired of mother fucking Winchesters and the crater sized chip on their fucking shoulders! You treat me like a fucking thing, a fucking weapon that you own! I'm a person, I exist, I need more than death and destruction on a daily basis.' her voice cracked and she dug the heel of her hands into her eyes.  
'You said it yourself.' Dean spat, disgusted with her, and with himself.   
'Killing is all you're good for!'  
She stood up, stomped back into the bathroom and slammed the door. Instantly he wanted to take it back, the second the words were out of his mouth. He stared at the wood grain, furiously, then groaned, all of his anger drying up.   
'Not very nice.' Crowley pointed out.  
'What? You like seeing her like this?' he snapped.  
'No.' he said, with maddening calm. He rose to his feet, he was shorter than Dean but still managed to make him feel small.  
'But I never thought I'd be the one with some bloody empathy.'  
Dean aimed a kick at the chair. 'She cant just leave, she out of control! She's.' he didn't know what he wanted to say, what he wanted to convey. He was worried about her, he worried about her all the time.  
'She's being herself, or she's trying to be. Temperance spent a whole chunk of her life in misery, she doesn't know how to be happy and now all she can feel is angry. It must hurt.'  
'Well, life's shit, so what?' Dean scoffed.  
'How misanthropic of you.'  
'We do our job thats it.'  
'Job?' Crowley looked at him, pouring scotch into finely cut crystal. 'This isn't her job, she's not a Hunter. She's half Demon, half bloody Angel and she just wanted to be a musician! She's only doing this for you!'  
'She's doing it cause its the right thing to do.' Dean retorted. Though in his heart he knew that Crowley was right, Temperance was doing this for him and he didn't know what he had done to earn that level of devotion.  
'She's human enough, we all had fucked up childhoods, she's strong, she can get through this.'  
'How?' she asked, surprising them from the doorway.   
'How do I get through this?'  
Crowley raised his glass to her, in a salute. 'You have to. Come on, I've an idea.' then he glanced at Dean, sly, snapping his fingers and banishing him back to the Bunker.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Fancy him? No.' she crossed her arms.   
> 'Just, uh, wanted to make sure.' he smirked, thinking how nice it would be to dance with her.  
> 'I like them blonde, cranky, and with daddy issues' Something mocking creeping into her tone as she watched him from the railing.  
> He froze, heart stammering. He made a meal out of clearing his throat 'Well, I'm beat, gonna head to bed.' he thought he heard her chuckle as he hurried away. He didn't have daddy issues, he had worked through those, thank you very much........
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

'Why am I wearing an itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny, yellow polka-dot bikini?' she glanced down at it, looked at the room they had appeared in and pulled a thick fluffy robe on.   
They had arrived in a calm spa, a sauna at one end appeared to lead out to an icy lake, there was a steaming jacuzzi and a deep pool and everything was tiled in a soft white.   
Two sides of the long room gave an unobstructed view of the quite world outside. The tall windows looked out over a mist dimmed forest, rusty pine needles coating its dim floor. Frost tinted the heavy branches, making the steamy room seem wonderfully cosy. Temperance felt tension dropping out of her just being there.  
'Where are we?'   
Crowley had many houses, many hideouts, she didn't know this one. He was sliding into the jacuzzi, a familiar smirk on his face.  
'Alaska.' he said as he sat back, conjuring a glass of whiskey and closing his eyes.  
'Gus.' she turned around and frowned down at him. The spa was quiet safe for the gentle sound of water, their voices echoed slightly bouncing off the walls and rattling up to the domed ceiling. She wasn't sure what to say, she shouldn't be in Alaska, she should be apologising to the brothers for being a wreck. She should be helping them look for her mother, or doing the washing up or tearing apart something hot and bloody.  
'I am being very nice and you are being very boring!' he said testily.   
She sat and put her feet into the water. 'Gus, we have things to do.'  
'You need a holiday' he retorted, switching on the bubbles. It was a ridiculous scene, too ridiculous, she wondered for a moment if she was dreaming, or tripping.   
She smiled, a little sadly, swinging her feet in the hot water. 'Where did you get the matching togs?'  
'I also needed a holiday.' he sniffed primly, snapping his fingers and doing away with her robe. She shrieked, but he put a hand on her ankle and pulled her in with a sharp tug. She rose out of the hot water spluttering and kicked him.  
Crowley never, ever, took no for an answer, not when he had his mind set on something.  
'It's nice.' she admitted, when she had gotten used to the water, her voice still heavy, her face drawn.   
'Squirrel and Moose were worried.' he flicked his eyes at her.  
'I couldn't be alone, I was in a place and I needed out.' she admitted, watching the water froth and burst around her knees.  
'You should have told me where you were going.'  
'Why?' she had a hand over the mark, covering it from her own eyes.  
'You could have needed help.'   
He was right, she supposed, she did need help. She had always been very good at not looking back, at not caring. The Mark made it difficult, having seen her dad made it difficult, knowing she had to kill her mother made it impossible.   
They sat together, in silence a while. A breeze stirred the trees outside.  
'Gus we need to go back.' she took his hand in the water.  
He sighed, theatrically, and snapped his fingers, appearing fully dressed at the edge of the tiles. 'You people, you never just relax.'  
She let him pull her to her feet and they vanished back to the Bunker.

'Where the hell did you go!' Dean roared, then blinked, a flush staining his throat.  
She gasped, realising she was standing in a wet, clinging, bikini, and crossed her arms over body. She ran from the room, trailing little wet footprints. Dean went after her, eyes on the ground.   
'Alaska.' she said, hurrying into her room.  
'Alaska? In that?' he smirked, the anger seeping out of him as quickly as it had built, when he got to her door and found her pulling on a t-shirt.  
'Gus reckons I need a holiday.' she sat down hands trapped under her arms, nodded him in.   
'You do.' Dean sat beside her.   
'You've been on edge all year, we all have.'  
'I think I just need to get back to normal.'  
'Normal?'  
'Come on, any supernatural goings on?' she urged.  
'You wanna go on a Hunt?” he frowned. Of all the things he would have suggested to help her going to banish a ghost or kill a damn Wendigo wasn't among them.  
'You were just giving me shit about putting you in this situation.'  
'Water under the bridge?' she held out a hand, a thin hand. He took it, her fingers were wrinkled from whatever pool she had been in.  
'I'm mercurial, I change like the sands and, yeah, I'm sorry. I was crashing.'  
He found he could laugh at that. 'I'm sorry for what I said, I didn't really mean it. Not the way it came out.'  
'Me too. So, hunt?'  
He nodded, sighing, her answering smile was so relieved that he felt bad for wanting to deny her.   
'But you gotta eat, properly and sleep.' He knew, now, under her clothes she was wasting away. Thinner than she had been when they met, he hadn't really been checking her eating habits. Every now and then it jumped out at him, she never really slept, never really ate. He wanted to take care of her, because it was the right thing to do.  
'Yes mom.' she said, saluting.

Sam spent a few days searching for good signs and found a notice in a newspaper one Sunday afternoon. He gave it to Temperance with a little trepidation.  
'Witches.' she said, shoving the article under Dean's nose.  
'Gotta be.'  
He drove, the further they got from the Bunker the happier she seemed to get. She asked what their cover story was, relishing the fun of it.  
'Right, so, we pretend like we're looking to buy a house and we can find out whats causing it. All the victims are younger couples, just starting out.'  
'Can I be Nancy?'  
'Nancy?'  
'Nancy Mulligan, recent immigrant, works in the tech sector. I'm a SAP consultant.'  
'Hi Nancy.' he laughed, pulling into a narrow street.   
'Ok, I'm your new husband Mark Mulligan. I'm a mechanic, classic car restoration and we are looking to settle down somewhere wholesome.'  
'For the kids.' she clasped her hands to her throat, giving him doe eyes.  
'The soon to be made kids.' he parked the car, winking.  
'We're both only children so we want to have a big family.'  
'A nice yard, plenty of open spaces for them to grow in.'  
'Oh Mark' she put her arm into his, batting her lashes.  
'You're the best guy that a gal could ask for.'  
They stayed in a BnB that had been over decorated with doilies and went to a local real-estate agent who was thrilled to get new people into the town. She laid out houses in their price range, Dean was pleased that his Credit Card fraud skills were still on point, and they arranged visits for the next two days. Smiling the lady led them out of the store front and said, earnestly. 'This is a great place to start a family!'  
Dean smiled back, putting an arm around Temperance's waist, twining her close.   
'It's exactly what we're looking for, right babe?'   
She had bought a dress a few towns over, pale green and frilly, he kept having to remind himself it was her. This person was a world away from the girl in the club in Berlin.  
She beamed a smile and nodded. 'We already picked out a nursery set!'  
The agent smiled and shuttled them around a few places, espousing the features, mainly the price and proximity to a school district, the good neighborhood.   
Dean could barely keep his eyes open by the end of the day and drove at a snails pace back to the bed and breakfast. The owner smiled from the hall.   
'How was it? I left some fresh towels upstairs for you, house hunting is hard work!.'  
'Everyone in this place is too chirper.' Temperance said, in a whisper, while Dean unlocked the door.  
'Probably Demons.' he joked, as she collapsed onto the bed with a groan.   
'So many houses. I'll be dreaming of utility rooms for weeks.'  
'That last one was kinda nice' he opened a bottle of water that had been left out on the nightstand, sipped it.   
'Needs work though.'  
She sat up and took the bottle from him, drinking deeply. 'I am fucking exhausted.'  
'Me too.'  
'Nap and then go get dinner?” she asked, yawning.  
Sounds good.' he mumbled, head already on the pillow.   
'You know, if I really was looking to buy a house, this place is nice.'  
'I have one, two actually.'  
'Yeah?'  
'I'll bring you sometime.' and she was asleep.

She tasted the honey thick magic on her tongue as she woke and let her blood repress it, cautiously she opened her eyes. She was naked, in a warm, cosy, room, with the estate agent and the proprietor of the inn, Bettie, bending over her.  
'Hey sweetie!' the agent smiled, all teeth.   
'You feeling ok?'  
Temperance nodded, looked around and saw Dean. 'Mark.' she said, breathlessly.  
'Yes, hon. Your handsome man is all here, look, ain't he a dish!. How about you go give him a hug?'  
Clearly the magic was a sort of compulsion and she scooted over, laying down by Dean and pressing a kiss to his cheek.   
He had a tattoo, she glanced at it, a ward against possession. He was fit, sculpted and strong and slender. He was pretty, she had known that but being naked against him she was reminded of that glaring fact and felt the urge to blush. He turned in her arms, holding on to her.   
'Tonic is ready, sis. Should guarantee conception, this time.' the estate agent said, her eyes calculating   
Dean stirred he blinked a few times, his hands tightened around Temperance, fingers pressing into her flesh. 'Where?” he began.  
Bettie held out a glass and tucked her dress under her knees as she knelt. 'Now, Mr. Mulligan. You want to make a baby right? Start a family?'  
He nodded and mumbled, pressing his lips to Temperance throat.  
'Well we want that too! We want lots of little witches for Satan!' she giggled, tapping him on the shoulder with a manicured finger.  
'Now, drink this.'  
Dean drank, his pupils shrank to pinpoints then bloomed wide. 'Baby.' he said.  
'We'll leave you to it!' Bettie winked.   
Once they were gone Temperance extracted herself from Dean's hold, with difficulty, went to the vial of tonic and sniffed it, pulling a face.  
'This is just all types of sick.' she muttered, then she froze.  
A very naked Dean was sluggishly moving towards her 'Want a baby.' he murmured his hands going for her hips.  
'No, you don't!' she tugged his arms away from her body.   
'You don't want kids.'  
'Kids' he agreed, nodding, he kissed her shoulders, her neck. She felt his lips ghost over the shell of her ear, a little tingle in her stomach that she pushed down.  
'Dean.' she shook her head, then jumped back as she felt his erection nudge her leg. She didn't look down, resolutely did not look down. No.  
'Dean, listen, its magic, you're under the influence. We can't have a baby, we're not even dating!'  
He pouted, like a child and put his head on her shoulder 'But I wanna have a baby.' his hands curled around her arms, his skin was blisteringly warm.  
A bubble of hysterical laughter burst out of her lips. 'Jesus christ!' the words were oil and honey on her tongue.   
'Fucking witches.' She brushed him away and stood, she would have felt better if she had shoes. The room was well warded, but she was taught by the greatest mage that ever lived. She put her hands on the door and felt the tingle of spell work, she broke the ward with a grunt and kicked the door down.   
Nude she marched through the hall, her eyes fluttering to black. Bettie's neck broke before she could turn around, her sister had the chance to look perplexed before she joined her in death. Not Witches then, something less than that.  
Snarling Temperance picked up the pink phone and dialled for Sam, she ordered him to send Castiel and began to hunt for some clothes.  
'Temperance.' Cas looked at her, appearing suddenly by her side.   
'You're naked.'  
'Yeah.' she agreed. He nodded, pleased that he appeared to have gotten something right, then he took off his trench coat and offered it to her.   
'Thanks, Dean is a bit, eh, messed up.'  
'I shall assist.' his rough voice echoing int he empty house.   
In a nearby motel Dean was detoxed and he spent a solid hour lying down in the dark trying to chase his migraine away. All of Castiel's healing hadn't been enough for the magical after effects, not with his Grace so tattered.  
'That's fucked up.' Sam said, of the Witches plan.   
'So all the other people?'  
'Killed them when it didn't work. Poor fuckers.' Temperance shook her head.  
'Did you fornicate? 'If your womb quickens with Winchester seed it might cause trouble.' Cas asked with his usual bluntness.  
She cut him off with a look of horror, before he could say anymore.   
'No! Fuck, no! Don't ever talk about my uterus again.'  
'Of course. I was not sure, Dean was in a state of extreme arousal when I recovered him.'  
'What?' Deans strangled voice sounded from the door, they all jumped, took one look at his haggard face and laughed. It was all you could do, really, laugh it off and pretend it didn't hurt.

They found a bar, Dean was good at finding bars, and sat down before the place got full. They were three beers in, music invading the conversation, when Dean found himself zoned out.   
Temperance was in a good mood, a better mood than he had known she could have. She was all bright and bubbling. He realised that she had started relaxing around them, her walls had come down. This Temperance was Temperance. She was gorgeous.   
All evening all he could think about was how those lips would feel on him, chapped and ragged as they were right then, or soft from the shower, full with smudged lipstick, like at that club. He glanced down quickly, she shaped her words with a laugh. He remembered what had happened, sort of, he remembered it like it was a dream, it had been dark, but he had felt her body against his. He had seen her in that Bikini, in her slinky grey dress, he would't mind seeing her in that again.   
Sam was trying to keep up with her explanation of something but seemed to get quickly lost in the details.  
'You did what?' Sam exclaimed.  
'Hey, don't try and shame me!' she wagged a finger, knocking back her drink. She wiped the corner of her mouth with a thumb and stood up.   
'No one ever knew and the Chancellor got her car back in one piece.' she concluded.  
The bar was getting louder now as the patrons began to get more drunk, a heavy set man bumped their table and apologised with a slurring of words.  
'I'll head back.' Temperance said, sliding off her seat.   
'Yeah, uh, us too.' Dean stood, shrugging into his jacket.   
'Its been a long day.'  
They walked through the gathering gloom, down a badly lit street to the motel. 'What about dinner? You guys hungry?' Sam asked, squinting into a cafe.  
'Get it to go?' she asked.  
It was a small place, they waited outside while Sam ordered. In the gloom he noticed how her eyes glittered. Those Demon eyes didn't freak him out anymore, he knew they should, but he had gotten kind of used to them.  
'Can you see the same? When its dark?'   
She flicked those eyes over him then. 'Yes. Handy when you need to go to the toilet in the middle of the night.' she looked away from him again, fastening her attention on the pavement.  
'Hey!' he stood up straight, looking scandlised.   
'You said it was dark! You said you didn't see anything!' he recalled with painful embarrassment, waking up naked that evening.  
She smirked. 'Sure it was cold, there was nothing to see.'  
He winced, 'Honey if you think thats nothing.' he began to smile, taking it in his stride, and she laughed, her whole face lit up when she did. Sam arrived out with an armful of card boxes.  
'Whats the joke?' He asked, juggling cartons.  
'Deans cock.' Temperance said, with a straight face.

The walk back was quick, they ate with their fingers sitting on the dusty floor. The brothers shared the bed and she slept on the couch. Late that night Dean turned, caught her bright eyes glittering.   
'Cant sleep?' he whispered over Sam's rumbling snores.  
'No' She stood up and went to the porch, he followed her.  
In the hard light of the full moon she looked her age, rumpled and tired. She looked up, tilting her face back, her long, dark, hair tumbled over her shoulders.   
'Do you think that she's looking?'  
'She's your mother.' he knew what was bothering her and set his back against the door. He couldn't help but admire the shape of her, the stern set of her shoulders, the way her hands gripped the railing.   
'I don't think she worried about us, yet. She's got Hell to tame.'  
'That she does.' she agreed. He reached for her hand, she turned her face towards him.  
'I'm worried about Gus.'  
'He can take care of himself.' Dean tried to sound reassuring, it was difficult with the sheer weight of dislike that he had for the guy. He was a slime-ball, he didn't trust him one bit. He didn't get her, what did she see in Crowley, he was cruel and evil and, christ, the man had anger issues.  
'Uh, I meant to ask, like, is there something going on with you guys?'  
She blinked. 'No.' the word a chuckle '  
Dean snorted, he had seen the way they were together. He had seen the Demon eyeing her up like a pie at a buffet.   
'You sure about that?'  
'If he wanted me that way he would have pressed the issue by now, we have known each other for years. Shit, we've known each other since I was 18.'  
'Well, how do you feel about him?' he watched her face carefully.   
She cocked her head to the side, her long hair made a curtain around her face and she flipped this back impatiently.  
Her voice was low, soothing. 'I adore him, he's my best friend. I wouldn't die for him, but I'd certainly try and stay alive for him.'  
He wondered a moment at that sentiment, while a thin veil of clouds covered the brilliant moon. She was so pale that she seemed to glow. 'But you don't, you know, like him?'   
'Fancy him? No.' she crossed her arms.   
'Just, uh, wanted to make sure.' he smirked, thinking how nice it would be to dance with her.  
'I like them blonde, cranky, and with daddy issues' Something mocking creeping into her tone as she watched him from the railing.  
He froze, heart stammering. He made a meal out of clearing his throat 'Well, I'm beat, gonna head to bed.' he thought he heard her chuckle as he hurried away. He didn't have daddy issues, he had worked through those, thank you very much.

The Bunker was a welcome sight after 2 weeks on the road, Dean disappeared into his room instantly and Sam went to the library to print and bind his notes. Temperance wandered into the kitchen. She put the kettle on, rinsed out her favourite orange mug, the one shaped like a clownfish. While the tea was brewing, tar-like and thick enough to run across, she turned on her phone.   
Instantly, Crowley appeared, looking annoyed. 'Why do you have a phone if you never answer it!'  
'Hello.' she poured milk into the tea, too late she realised that it was gone off. The milk separated and sat in the tea like egg drop. 'Lovely.' she tipped it into the sink.  
'I wanted to surprise you.' he explained, clicking his fingers. A garment bag appeared in his hand and he waved it at her.  
'What for?'  
'Open it.'  
She pulled the zip down, inside was a short leather jacket. It was soft as butter and lined with a dark, crimson, silk. 'Oh!' she said, pulling it on.   
'It's gorgeous.'  
'Made it myself, some special magic in those stitches.' he said, proudly, turning her this way and that to examine the fit.   
'Well, hows it feel?'  
'Great.' she said, honestly.   
'I thought you would need it this weekend.' he explained, slyly.   
'Why?' she arched a brow at him, her shoulders tensing. Crowley's surprises fell into two categories, charming and horrifying, with nothing in between.  
He clicked his fingers again and held out a copper keyring on his palm. They type of tourist trinket you would buy on the street. A miniature Eiffel Tower. She took it, laughing, long and loud. 'Paris?'  
He tapped her nose.'I'll come by on Friday morning.'  
'Why?' Deans voice, suspicious and angry sounded from the door.  
'I am taking my dear friend away for the weekend, to Paris. To dine in Le Grande, to spit off the top of the Eiffel Tower, to see the awful art works and worse architecture, to smell the shit flowing through the Seine.' he threw out his hands and spun around 'To get out of this dump!'  
'Paris?' Sam appeared.   
'We're going to Paris?'  
'Not we, Temperance and I.' Crowley snarled. He glared at the brothers until Temperance nudged him.  
'We could all go?' she suggested.  
He rolled his eyes, relenting too quickly. 'Fine, be ready at 10.' he vanished without another word.  
'Paris, France?' Dean asked, skeptical. 'In an airplane?'  
'Pack your rain coat!' she went to her room, shutting out the siblings and falling into bed. She had met Crowley in Paris, he claimed to hate the city but he did always insist on bringing her there. It called to him, the way Amsterdam called to her, he wasn't his usual self in that city. He was kinder, calmer, a little crazier. She fluffed the pillow under her head and fell into a fitful sleep.

Crowley had booked a massive hotel suite for them to stay in and a table at Le Grand, it had an old world glamour, three Michelin stars and a decent wine cellar. It was a nice evening, mainly spent laughing at the faces of ecstasy that Dean pulled as he tried all the food. The wine flowed in a never ending stream and when they trotted back to the hotel they drank a whole lot more.  
Dean woke up, face down and fully dressed on a huge bed. Groaning he swallowed an aspirin and got into the shower, emerging sometime later to find the dinning room spread with every breakfast food he could imagine.   
It was a grey morning, pale light spilled in from the massive windows, the river below was flint and mercury. He sat down and had poured a coffee by the time his brother appeared, grey and delicate in his sweat pants. Crowley snapped into existence beside them, fully dressed, an English language newspaper under one arm.   
'Morning.'  
'Crowley.' Dean glanced at his trembling brother. What the hell happened to him last night.  
Temperance's door opened. She was wearing a black vest and bed shorts, her skin glowing from the hot shower.   
Crowley ruffled his paper as Temperance sat down. She poured tea from a silver pot, her skin smelled like the expensive honey soap in the bathroom, her hair still wet. Dean watched a drop of water run down behind her ear as she reached for the milk.  
'Morning all.' she said, brightly, no trace of a hangover there.  
Sam grunted, sweaty milky pallor hovering inches from the table cloth. Dean sipped his coffee, pilling pancakes, eggs and sausage onto his plate. 'Toast, Sam? Waffles?'  
'No.' his voice hollow.  
Temperance took pity on him. 'Give me your hand.' She raced a rune on his palm with her finger nail, just lightly scoring the skin. He shivered, eyes wide, then sat up.  
'Wow!'  
'I know.' she popped her finger in her mouth and sucked it, like it had burned.  
'Was that?”  
'Enochian.' she nodded. The Demon let out an audible 'ugh' of disgust at that and she winked at the boys.   
'I had the most amazing time.' Her voice shifting to something soft, intimate, Dean looked at her face sharply, half expecting a blush.   
Crowley put down his paper then, cheerful once more. 'I am so glad, darling.'  
'Thank you.' she poured him tea, though he wouldn't drink it.  
'Would you like to visit the louvre?' he asked, while she nibbled at fruit.   
'You have to eat properly, now, or you will get tired.'  
She rolled her eyes, stabbed a sausage with her fork and bit into it. Pointedly.  
'Good girl.' he stood, soothing his tie and shirt front. '  
I'll be back in a few hours, we can go to lunch then see all the pretty things.'  
'Ok!' she spoke around her food.  
'Will you be staying?' he hissed at the brothers.  
Sam was practically vibrating with want to see the gallery, he looked balefully at his brother.   
'Yeah I guess.' Dean looked at Temperance to ask.   
'If we ain't in the way?'  
Crowley grunted, and vanished.   
'I'd love you guys to stay, this is nice, like going on holiday.' she picked back up her cup, abandoning the food now that her friend wasn't there to pester her.  
'You not hungry?' Sam asked, taking her plate from her, his appetite turning with a vengeance.  
'What is it with all of you and my eating habits?' she asked, a little irritably.  
Dean was about to speak when she caught his gaze and her expression soften. She picked up a piece of toast and munched on it. He grinned, happily, she needed to keep her body together. Like Sam always said, healthy body, healthy mind.  
'So whats the plan?” Dean asked.  
'Wander around, eat pastry?' she offered, standing.  
She was familiar with the city, she admitted to living there for a few months and visiting often. Sam was so stupidly happy that Dean managed to enjoy the running history lesson he was giving as they explored the tourist sites.  
Dean kept looking over at Temperance, surprised to see her relaxed for once. She spoke French with unexpected fluency, navigating the streets and train, the coffee shop, without difficulty. Crowley appeared towards the evening.  
'Almost time, how about a drink before the gallery?”  
'Ain't it closing soon?” Sam asked as the Demon pretended to look scandalised.   
'Good gracious. Who would go in when it was open?'

She gazed at the sculpture with longing, a longing darkly reflected on the Demon's face as he looked at her. 'Mary Magdalene.' Sam said, looking over at the statue.   
Temperance blinked and looked away, they had been walking for hours, in near silence as they took it all in.  
'One last stop?' Dean asked. Everyone looked at him, which he rolled his eyes at. 'Come on, gotta see the Mona Lisa!.'  
Sam was disappointed by the dingy oil behind its glass case. 'Wow, its smaller than I thought.'  
'Thats what she said.' Temperance muttered under her breath.  
'This isn't even the real one.' Crowley pointed out, tapping the bullet proof covering.  
'In the original, she's topless.'  
Dean had to laugh at that. They left, without being seen, and wandered to a restaurant. It wasn't as fancy as the previous night's provider had been, much to the boys delight. They ate, talking excitedly, getting along without snide remarks, then Crowley took them back to the States. His hand lingered a moment too long on Temperance's arm, Dean couldn't help but notice.  
He always thought there was something, that maybe Crowley wanted to use her for his own purposes, her power or whatever. It didn't occur to him that they could really be friends, he knew that Demons couldn't love, but looking at him then he almost forgot that. It was as clear as day that Crowley adored her and that just didn't sit well with Dean.  
'That was great.' she pressed, hugging her Demon.  
'See you soon, darling.' and he was gone.  
Sam was clutching a bag of pastry and a bottle of wine, looking like a kid at a carnival. 'I cant believe how cool that was!'  
'Yeah!' Dean agreed, yawning as he unlocked the door.   
'Loads of food and pictures of naked chicks, totally my kinda place.'

Normality returned with an unwelcome bang, there were monsters on the loose and the Winchesters on the hunt.   
They were in California, following a fresh lead, the sun beating down on the black car. Temperance had never been to California and would have preferred some horrific occurrence near the sea, maybe killer pro surfers, or possessed skateboards.   
Luck was never on her side though, they drove through Yuba City and came to a stop by a Chinese Temple, surrounded by tourists. She went to the library and checked out a few local places of info, while Sam and Dean did some reconnaissance in the woods.  
They were following a lead on missing hikers, more then a dozen in the past decade and a few of them had been found with chunks missing out of them. Police blamed mountain lions mostly. All the incidents had occurred at different times, with different people, but on the same type of moon. It was always a dark moon.  
She waited by the car when she was done, having flirted her way though the staff at the newspaper and come up empty. There was barely any local legends in these parts. She did get asked out to dinner by a cop though, and got a phone number, so, not a complete loss.  
Dean returned alone at dusk, agitated and dusty.  
'A what?' she pushed her sun glasses up and sat, slowly, her feet coming to rest on the asphalt.  
'It's head was on backwards! I swear! And it moved all wrong, twisted and freaky and shit.' Dean shuddered.   
'It got Sam. I turned my back for a second, just a second.'  
'Did it speak?' she was standing now, looking around at the deserted street.   
'No, kinda made this hoarse groaning sound. It moved too fast.'  
'Guttural?' she opened her bag, digging her arms deep into the mess within.  
'Yeah, I guess?' Dean leaned against the door.  
'It aint a warlock like we thought, its not human. No way.'  
'Oh, its warlocks alright.' she tucked a curved knife into her pocket and shot a dark look at the mountains.  
'Its called an Imbunche. They were made by warlocks in Chile as guardians, gate keepers for their sacred sites, to do their dirty work, and they feed on dead flesh.'  
'You know em?'  
She made a face, the sort of blank twist as if she had tasted something repulsively sour 'I've come across one before.'  
'So, how do we kill 'em?'  
'If it's out of its cave and just roaming about I'm hoping to fuck you can track it.' she shrugged, uncertainty.   
'Usually the Warlocks keep them close, I think we need to find the nearest cave system to where you last saw Sam and stake it out.'  
'But we can kill them?' Dean pressed.  
There was a long pause before she answered. She was considering her options, which were few. 'Yes.'  
'Ok! Great, how?' he went to the trunk and began shuffling through his stash of weapons.   
'Kill the warlock.' she tapped the knife through the leather of her coat. He nodded, grimly, loaded a shot gun and slammed the trunk shut.

Dean led her to a cave, a ragged space off the park track. She had to force him to wait until nightfall huddling low to the ground near the cave, and arguing in fierce whispers.  
'Trust me!' she begged. 'Please, I want to go get him now too but its safer for him to wait! We need the warlock to get here. The creature will attack us if we go in, we have to wait for the Warlock to call him away.'  
Dean scowled darkly, fingers tight on his gun, he made to speak but at that moment a man, all dressed in red, hurried through the woods to the clearing. He didn't stop to look around, but ran on, quickly, into the dark cave.   
'Now.' Dean urged.  
'Don't shoot, try not to bleed and don't look at the things face.'   
The cave was old, it had been a copper mine centuries ago and now the mouth was warn and partially collapsed. They moved, slowly and quietly to the entrance.   
It, the creature, was waiting, or lurking rather. It didn't seem to have any purpose other than to stand there, melting in with the rock. With painstaking care they made it down the scree littered path to a fork in the tunnel. Dean gestured her left and he went right. 

She hated this, it reminded her of a job in Chile, she never thought she would get the smell of death off her after that one. A Warlock's Council had turned into a bloodbath, sometimes when she closed her eyes she could still see the blood, ankle deep, churning as people ran. She didn't need a torch to see and walked carefully through the dark, alert for the slightest movement.  
The path sloped down and the air became colder and clammy on her skin. Without warning, it ended in a sheer drop. Her toes on the edge she looked down and saw, in the darkness, piles of bones. Human skeletons in great rotting heaps. She took a breath, smelled the clay and blood scent of the creature and spun round, barreling back up the path. That smell, she knew it, she knew what those things were like. She had faced them before.  
It screeched in its deathly broken voice and lunged for her, she dived under its grasping, twisted arm and hurried on, not daring to look back. Its mismatched legs hurrying after her. 'Fuck, fuck, fuck.' she sang under her breath.  
She reached the fork and went down the path that Dean had taken, the knife gripped in her fist. There was a flickering, wet, light above as firelight bounced on the rough stone wall. Chanting echoed up from a huge domed chamber. She saw Dean crouched by the entrance and whispered in his ear.   
'Its following.'  
In the chamber below stood one man, a Warlock, tall and broad, clad in a crimson robe. His arms were raised before a low alter where Sam's body was bound. She didn't know the spell he was using, it wasn't Spanish, or any modern language, it didn't sound Latin.  
She wasted no time and jumped down, rolling as she landed and dashing forward. The Warlocks goat-like eyes met hers and he snarled.   
Dean was shouting at her, she reflected that he spent rather a lot of time shouting at her. He hastily followed her to the alter, aimed a gun at the Warlock and fired.  
'Behind!' he roared.  
The Imbunche came lumbering from a rough alcove, it's massive hands curling around her shoulders and tossing her aside. The floor was uneven and the sharp rock bit into her skin as she landed across the cavern. The creature dragged itself on lumbering feet towards her, grasping, reaching, hoping to snap her in two. She dodged its arm, kicked it in the side and sent it tottering.  
It just moved so strangely, she didn't like it, did't like that she wouldn't know how it would move next. Her freshly spilled blood was calling it, leaving Dean alone to deal with the Warlock. His shot had had no effect on the man, who he was grappling with now, trying to fight him away from Sam who was weakly thrashing at his bonds.   
'Catch!' she called, throwing the curved blade towards him. You needed a knife for these fuckers, as she knew all to well. He caught it in his off hand, as the Imbunche grabbed her around the middle.  
They were inhumanly strong, and not deterred by pain. She fell back, the air driven from her lungs, grabbling uselessly as it caught her neck in its fingers. Lights popped before her eyes, pressure building. She felt a rush of power rear up inside of her and she lashed out with it.  
The creature flailed backwards as its body seemed to crumbled, his one free arm shattered as it fell to the ground. What was flesh and bone, woven together with magic, was now turning to rock and powder. Eye flashing she stomped a foot down onto its head and it stilled, dead at her feet.  
She watched, panting, as Dean and Sam overpowered the Warlock. Sam stabbed down with the knife, there was a shriek, like glass shattering and the robe dropped, empty, to the ground, a oily smear of something on the stone where his body had been. Around her feet the dust ceased stirring.   
'You ok?” Dean asked Sam, checking him over to cuts and bruises.  
'Christ' Temperance spat, the word tingling in her mouth. 'Fucking magic.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a confused chapter, I'm just throwing these up as they come to me. All comments welcome.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wore the clothes she knew, the beige trench coat over a white shirt and red tie. His hair stood up as if a breeze had ruffled it and he put a hand to his mouth, a chapped, scared hand, to smoke.  
> 'Constantine.' she spoke the name with a laugh in her voice, it changed her. It changed her completely. Her harsh edges softened, the cruel sarcasm muted, she looked beautiful when she looked at him.....
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

'Why are you so hard to get a hold of?' Crowley asked, his voice crackling down the line.  
'I'm in a spot of trouble and I need to lay low.'  
'Oh?'  
'Yes, you should lay low with me.'  
'I've things to do.' Temperance countered, bending down to pick up the can opener. 'Dinner to make, for example.'  
He scoffed, in the room now. 'For tweedle dee and doo?'  
'Yes.' she set the can of tomatoes down.   
He prodded it with a finger. 'Do just let them starve!'  
'Whats happened, why do you need to go to ground?'  
'Your mother.' he shrugged.  
Dean walked in, rolled his eyes 'Crowley, remind we when I invited you into my house?'  
He flashed a smile at the Hunter, one that was all teeth. 'Well you might not see me for a bit, I've decide to stay out of the limelight for a while, until things, or one thing in particular, dies down.'  
'Well, don't let the door hit you on the way out.' Dean chuckled to himself.  
'So,' Crowley turned to Temperance, pushing her chopping board aside with a snap of his fingers.  
'What do you say?'  
'What did my mother do?'  
'She's set herself up with a good following, I'm, as the kids say, fucked.'  
Temperance felt a flash of new concern and turned aside from the dinner preparations. Her mother had made a move in Hell, she had support, she had backing. Crowley couldn't go down there.  
'Stay here, with us, with me.'  
'But here is so.' he looked round. 'Ugh.'  
'You're such a snob.' she rolled her eyes. 'Where then?'   
'Sardinia!' he said it with relish. 'Pink sand, hot sun, spritz and a view of the sea.'  
'Sounds very nice.' she went to turn back to the sauce she was making, but his hand caught hers and suddenly, they were on a sunlit terrace.

'Gus! You can't keep doing that!'  
'Oh stop.' he was pouring whiskey into two glasses and set these down beside a sun lounger. 'I've only the one sun bed, I'm afraid. You could sit on my lap?'  
She rolled her eyes and sat on the edge of the pool. Crowley was nothing is not consistent, she admitted, he got what he wanted.   
'Will you bring me my drink?' she asked, after a moment, her face tilted up to the sun.  
Crowley stood, plucked up the glass and walked over to her. She accepted it, eyes flashing. In an instant she had thrown him into the water, he came up spluttering, grabbed her ankles and pulled her in after him.   
She laughed, spitting out water, struggling away from him. He snapped his fingers, appearing fully clothed on the terrace, fuming. 'That was a 5k dollar suit!'  
She laughed, rested her arms on the tiles. 'I'll pay you back.'  
'I've seen your savings, woman!' He paused, head cocked to the side.   
'Ah, the brothers grim and gangly are calling.'  
She went to the ladder to pull herself out, her black jeans were water logged, weighing her down. Gus, smirking, clicked his fingers, replacing her clothes with a ,no doubt very expensive, barely there hot pink bikini. She froze, anger, mortification, mottling her cheeks  
'Gus!' she warned.  
'Yes?' he went back to the sun lounger, sat down.   
'Do you have a death wish?' she spat, walking stiffly to the house and disappearing inside.   
The bedroom was beautiful, rather jarring compared to the ostentatious modernity of the rest of the house. The walls were paneled in reclaimed wood, all the timbers a soft, worn, silver, the floor tiles were the original flags and the deep bed was made up with plain white linen, a blue throw to one side. She opened the dresser, scowled at the colourful lace, went to the wardrobe and groaned at the equally colourful silk.   
The plainest article of clothing was a long navy beach dress, panels of eyelet lace showing more skin than she thought necessary. She pulled it on over the bikini, thinking dark thoughts, and looked around the room. It had a small private terrace, she could lie in bed and look out at it, vines twinned around creating a natural roof for the old stone walls, bright flowers grew in pots and cascaded around the pavement. Two wrought iron chairs were arranged around a tiny cafe table, pillar like candles in tall glass jars had been scattered around to give light at night, a gentle smell of citronella to ward off mosquitos. Above the bed, in a cheap bamboo frame, was a picture of her and Crowley, his figure was more of a blur. It was taken in Paris from a restaurant window and bought on the street as they left. She smiled, kneeling up to look at it. She was 18, forever, in that picture.   
When she came out of the room, Crowley was pottering about his office, it overlooked the long drive, a sliver of coastline just visible to the right. He was on his phone, so she left him to it.   
The kitchen was blisteringly contemporary, all stainless steel and never used appliances, she checked the press and fridge, finding it all empty. The village wasn't far, she slipped on sandals and a long cashmere cardigan, and walked towards it.  
He found her as she was leaving a shop, bags in hand. 'Dinner?'  
She pushed a bag into his arms and he juggled it for a moment before, with a gruff snort, using magic to send it on to the house.   
'Lets walk back by the beach.' she said, it was overcast now, threatening to rain but hot and sticky. The breeze on the coast would be cooler than the village road. He sat down on the rocks, carefully rolling up his trousers and removing his handmade shoes and silk socks. It was so domestic, so ordinary, when was the last time they had done anything together, just the two of them. She waited, patiently, kicking off her own sandals and dipping her feet in the warm water.  
She looked at the diamond brilliance of the sea as it flowed over her skin, looked at him, shrugged, and kicked a splash of water in his face. He blinked, taken aback, before looking up, murderously and wordlessly at her.   
She sprinted off, laughing, her strong legs moving quickly over the sand. It was best to get a head start, she reasoned, he was the King of Hell, after all.  
'Bitch!' she heard him say as took off after her, catching up before the cove, he grabbed her around the waist and spun her about. She tired to squirm free and ended up toppling them both into the pink sand. The laughter was knocked out of her lungs, she just lay there beneath him, trying to get her breath back, it made him smile. His smile, the smile that shouldn't belong to a Demon.  
Sand and a few stray strands of hair stuck to her lips. He brushed them off and she stilled, looking into his eyes. Before she could process what she saw in his face a crash of thunder interrupted them.  
The dark sky broke then and thick heavy raindrops fell in a sheet. He pulled her up quickly, urging her forward. Lightning lighting up the evening as they reached the patio doors. He pulled her cardigan off.   
'Go warm up, have a shower, I'll get the food going.' he said.  
She slipped out from under his touch and hurried to the bathroom, the door closed with a thump, cutting them off from each other. She jumped under the hot water and rubbed herself warm, emerging, reluctantly to get dressed. She chose, from the awful wardrobe, an ivory silk sundress, the straps were made of fine gold braid and judging by the designer label it cost more than everything she owned, car included.  
She didn't bother with shoes, drying her hair quickly, she went to the kitchen to find a charcuterie board on the table, a bottle of golden wine open beside it.  
Crowley was standing beneath the arch, looking out at the storm. He watched her reflection in the glass as she picked up the bottle and poured two glasses. Then he walked towards her his hand twitching towards, but not quite touching, her back.  
'Do you want to watch a film?' she asked, handing him one of the crystal flutes.  
'You pick.' he said, the wine was sweet and strong, he rolled it around his mouth a moment before swallowing and scowled to see she had already drank half of her own glass down, predictably not savouring the flavour. She didn't know why he still bothered to get annoyed by this. He set the food down on the coffee table, sat in the leather chair and waited while she ran through the films on the hard-drive.  
'Why, in the name of all that is holy, does every single one have Meryl Streep in it?'  
'She's fabulous.' he shrugged, topping up her wine glass while Death Becomes Her started to play.  
Temperance nibbled on the olives and cheese, very aware of his stiff arm around the back of the sofa, terribly aware that he was using every ounce of his concentration to break into her mind, to hear the smallest thought. She drank the wine with a smirk, letting it relax her, she tucked her feet under the cushion, the storm had made the house cold.  
'Do you want a blanket?' he asked, almost a murmur. He snapped his fingers, a soft throw appearing over her legs.  
'Thanks.' she leaned against his shoulder, pulling the wool around her hips. His fingers brushed off her skin and she felt a little jolt in her pulse at the touch.  
'Temperance.' he began to say, but with a snarl he sat up straight and vanished. She was in the kitchen, making pasta, when he returned.   
'Do you want that truffle oil on yours?' she asked, then turned around.  
Dean was there looking irritated, not as irritated as Crowley, who picked up the wine and poured the rest into his glass and chugged it, with barely contained anger.  
'Hi?' she said.  
'Um, I thought I'd come visit' Dean explained, shooting a look at Crowley's stiff back.  
'He thinks that your here against your will.' the Demon snapped.  
She set the plates down on the table, sighed. 'Right.'  
'So, tell him your not and I can send him back.'  
'Hey!' Dean frowned, turning around to face Crowley.  
'You cant just take her away and not tell us what's going on!.'  
'You don't own her, squirrel.' Crowley's eyes were suddenly red, the bloody smoke colour of his essence. It never boded well.  
'Neither do you!' Dean spoke with heat, his hands curling into fists.   
A throb in her head started to push its way between her brows. She left them arguing, went to her room, locked the door and climbed into the warm bed. The morning would be a better time to deal with the pair of them. 

She was awake early, the horizon was grey, but free of rain. The storm had rinsed the air clear and the sun would break free soon. She lay in bed for a while, thinking about Crowley, and about Dean.   
It wasn't lost on her that Crowley did treat her like a doll, a precious one, but still an object to be admired. Dean had been watching her recently, she caught his eyes flickering away from her a few too many times. She reasoned it probably wasn't anything serious. She was the only woman he saw most of the time and, judging by the amount of porn on his laptop, he had an active sex drive.   
The possessive behavior from the pair of them was trying, it got on her nerves and she had few of those to spare recently. The Mark burnt on her arm and she hissed, sitting upright and kicking the covers aside. Want, want, need, an itch that demanded her to tear something apart. She grit her teeth and threw open the wardrobe, it didn't improve her mood.  
The amount of silk could have ransomed a medieval king, she ran her hands over the garment bags, a fairly wicked thought playing in her mind. She was half Demon, she could be wicked, so why not give in to that urge.  
She dug out the most sheer robe among the acres of fabric and tried not to gag at it. It was a pale peach colour with long sleeves that whispered against her skin, and a silky hem that puddled at her feet. She tied its velvet belt around her waist, let down her hair and rummaged in the bathroom until she came up with a dewy pink lipstick. The white and gold bikini beneath her robe hid absolutely nothing. She spared it a glance, shrugged and went to the kitchen. To cook.  
They men arrived to breakfast to find a feast waiting, bread, pastry, fruit, fresh juice, tea and coffee. A mound of dark chocolate at the ready to slip into hot rolls.   
She crossed her ankles, a set of towering strappy heels she had unearthed bit into her toes, but it was worth it, for the pink flush on Dean's cheeks and the predatory gleam in Crowley's eyes. She must ask him to stop buying her clothes, it was wasteful. Unless, and she didn't dismiss the thought, that these were not just for her.  
'Breakfast.' she said, lifting her small tea cup to her painted lips. The sun was behind her, her body outlined beneath the silk.  
They sat at opposite ends of the table, Dean looking at the floor, the recent King of Hell at middle distance. Good, she was making an impression. She pouted, poured coffee for Dean and pulled the plate of chocolate towards herself. She leaned forward to select a square and slid it between her lips, letting out a little sigh as she bit into it. She heard Deans spoon rattle against his saucer and felt Crowley's eyes boring holes into her skull.   
'Sugar?' she asked, all innocence. She flicked her tongue over her lips. Dean was taking shallow breaths, not daring to meet her gaze. He looked a little punch drunk.  
'No thanks.' he said, hoarsely.  
'Would anyone like a dip? She heard Crowley splutter as she shrugged off the robe.   
'I'm going to go for a swim.' she explained. Her heels clicked on the tiles, she took her time sliding them off, then dived into the water.

Temperance was not one for showing skin, she usually dressed to cover herself from throat to ankle. Her shirts buttoned high on her neck and close around her wrists, her jeans tucked into her boots. It wasn't a modesty thing, she just hated the sight of herself. Each scar reminded her of it, each inch of skin screaming to tell her what she was. So she covered it up.   
The worst of her scars, besides the Mark, ran from her jaw to the wrist, a pale burn from magic that looked a little like the trace left by lightening. She hated that scar, not because it was ugly or marring, because her dad had put it there, the night she ran away. It was a bad memory, branded on her.  
Wearing a ruffled blush pink bikini the following day, that looked like a barbie had been let loose with a scissors, she couldn't help but finger this scar at her neck. She saw Dean watching, out of the corner of his eye, and turned back on her charm.  
'Can you help me with the sunscreen?' she held out the bottle and turned her back. He cleared his throat, padding over to assist. She untied the bow, both hands holding the material over her chest. It was cold on her skin and she gasped, arching away from his touch.  
'Sorry.' his voice low, gravelly.   
'It's cold!' She couldn't see his face, but she could feel discomfort radiating off him as he carefully covered her back and neck.   
'Tie me up?'  
'What?' he asked, scandalised, panicked.   
'The strap?' she turned her head in time to see his cheeks mottle with colour and he twisted the bikini back together before hurrying to his seat in the shade.   
An hour passed, Crowley walked out, offered her a drink 'Careful, you might burn.'  
'Oh?” She propped herself up on her elbows, looked down at her stomach. He sat, unfurling a pink paper, the financial times. She thought it might be the Japanese edition and rebuked herself for not knowing enough modern languages as she worked the sunscreen into her chest. A beat, Dean left the terrace, quickly and Crowley's front page crumpled.  
Fuming he set down his paper and said 'I'm sorry, alright?'  
'For?'  
'Being a git?' he stood up, scowling, shrugging out of his jacket and throwing it at her.  
'Good enough.' she hurried it on over her bikini. His eyes lingered on her a moment before he cleared his throat.   
'Happy birthday' he said. 'By the way.'  
She paused in the act of rooting through his pockets, it was a bad habit, pulling out a little box, topped with a bow.   
'It's?'  
'Midsummer. Go on, open it.'  
She squinted down at it and pulled the ribbon. Inside a little card box was a long gold chain, hair fine, and dangling on the end of it was an uncut emerald. The stone was cloudy, a fracture in the gem letting in minerals over the years it had lain underground, in the dark. 'Gus!'  
He pulled it from her fingers and put it round her neck, under his jacket 'Do you like it?'  
'It's beautiful.' she admitted. 'It's too much.'  
'Nonsense!' he announced, sitting back down to his paper.   
'My dearest friend in the whole wide world, nothing is too good for you.'  
She dropped a hand to his shoulder and kissed his scruffy cheek 'Thank you.'  
He watched her reflection in the glass as she walked to her room, toying with the pendant, eyes glued to her bare legs.

Dean was in the kitchen ' Nice to see you dressed again' he smirked. She had put on the crumpled ivory sundress over the ugly bikini.   
'Shaving seemed like too much hassle.' she sat down.   
'Whats cooking?'  
'Coffee.'  
'Boring.'   
She reached around him for a glass of water, tucking the pendant out of sight. It was her birthday, she had known the Winchesters for over a year now, she had been carrying the Mark for months.  
'Happy birthday.' Dean said, following her into the lounge. 'I didn't get you anything.'  
She looked at him, confident in his seat, he was looking out over the terrace, all gently pouting lips, beautiful eyes and good jaw line. She was happy to have him in her life, even with his recent behavior. He was a good man, he was kind, and, well, he was himself.  
'You checking me out?' he asked without turning.  
'Yes.'  
He chuckled then put a hand to his head. 'Oh! Here!' he handed over an envelope. 'It came the other day for you.'  
Crowley, whiskey in hand walked in, looking down at his phone. 'Your brother uses rather a lot of emojis.' he said to Dean, typing a reply  
Temperance, meanwhile had glanced at the address, stiffened and tore open the paper. The envelope was dog eared from shuttling between a few dozen addresses. She could feel the magic woven into the paper, a warm tingle at her finger tips.   
'We have to go.' she said after scanning it.  
'What? The Demon pouted. 'We barely had any fun!'  
'Home, now.' she looked at herself, remembering her state of undress.  
'Give me back my clothes.'  
He snapped his fingers, her jeans and shirt reappearing, then taking her hand they stepped into nothing, solidifying on familiar soil. 

The Bunker road was churned from recent rain, they marched to the door in silence. For her part, Temperance seemed to be holding back a scream.   
It was evening in America, Dean working up the courage to speak, but Sam, hurrying out interrupted.  
'Where did you guys go?”  
'Sardinia' Dean answered.  
'I'll be back in a few.' She held up the envelope.   
'I've to go into town.' The ink had faded on the paper, it seemed to rise up like smoke.  
'What?' Dean asked sharply.  
'I promise.' she took his hand and squeezed it 'I swear that I'll be back in a bit.'  
He scowled, but let her past to get to the garage. She drove slowly, obeying the speed limit for once and parked on the street, in front of the busy cafe. Happy people were milling about the door, getting breakfast. She looked past them, into the shaded recess of ash trees at the end of the lot. He wore the clothes she knew, the beige trench coat over a white shirt and red tie. His hair stood up as if a breeze had ruffled it and he put a hand to his mouth, a chapped, scared hand, to smoke.  
'Constantine.' she spoke the name with a laugh in her voice, it changed her. It changed her completely. Her harsh edges softened, the cruel sarcasm muted, she looked beautiful when she looked at him.  
He walked over, stubbing out his cigarette and popping the collar of his coat agains the drizzle. Slowly he turned his eyes up to Temperance. 'Happy birfday, love.'  
She raised an eyebrow. 'Thanks.'   
'Figured I'd drop by, see how you've been getting on.' he coughed, to clear his throat, avoiding her eyes 'You know, I was in the area.'  
'Indeed.' she nodded seriously.  
'No, uh, I was, yeah. I was working a job and I thought 'hey now must drop by and see Tempy for her birthday'.' he rambled, gesturing with a gold lighter and scuffing the gravel with his heel. 'Um' he trailed off.  
Temperance didn't speak after this stream of nonsense, but she did reach up and kiss him, delicately on his surprised mouth.   
'Oh' he managed.   
'So you're not angry then?”  
'I'm always angry' she countered. 'But I'm happy to see you.'  
'Missed you' he took her hand, sheepishly.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Who the hell is this?' Dean demanded.  
> 'John Constantine' he held out a hand and shook Sam and Dean's with vigour. His thin frame was roped with muscle and almost every inch of him was covered in wards and tattoos. There was a ring, like a safety pin, through one nipple, and a rippling burn scar on his thigh.... 
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

Dean didn't wait up for her, but he knew that she hadn't come home till late. He went to the kitchen for coffee with Sam and was surprised by the sight of her.  
She was wearing a mans white shirt and nothing else, standing on her toes to reach the clean cups. Dean let out a strangled sound and smacked a hand over his eyes.  
'Morning.' she said, pulling the shirt closed with one hand.   
'Didn't think you would be up yet.' when she had buttoned herself up.  
'Where did you go yesterday?'  
Dean had never really seen her happy, not genuinely happy. He had seen the rare, real smiles, heard the occasional laugh, but joy wasn't a part of her. Not until that moment. It started in her eyes, before overflowing and filling out her cheeks, meandering down to her lips at last. She gave him a breathtaking smile that suddenly reminded him that she was half Angel.   
He didn't have long to admire it, a voice with a British accent broke the silence.  
'Ello?' A blonde man, barefoot and wearing a pair of blue boxers was leaning against the door frame.   
'Y'all right?” was his greeting. The brothers jumped, looking between Temperance and the new comer in shocked silence.  
'Who the hell is this?' Dean demanded.  
'John Constantine' he held out a hand and shook Sam and Dean's with vigour. His thin frame was roped with muscle and almost every inch of him was covered in wards and tattoos. There was a ring, like a safety pin, through one nipple, and a rippling burn scar on his thigh.   
Dean flushed and cleared his throat, while Constantine walked over, and kissed Temperance. She let him kiss her, she kissed him back.  
The guy winked and seemed to eye Dean up, as if to admire the shape of him beneath his cargo jacket and jeans. It made Dean squirm, take his cup and hurry out of the kitchen, his brother lopping along beside him. He glanced wide eyed at his brother.  
'She has a boyfriend?”  
'And its John Constantine!' Sam sounded awed.   
'Dean, shit, that guy. Wow. I mean, he wrote the book on banishing Demons. He's a legend.'  
'I never heard of him.' Dean scowled, trying not to think of the stranger running his hands over Tem's ruined skin. 

'Be nice.' Temperance admonished to John in the kitchen.  
'Oh, he's easy on the eyes though.' John muttered through a yawn before plonking down on the bench. She took in the number of new scars he had acquired, the new lines on his face. Things she hadn't noticed last night. She reached out and touched a nasty welt on his ribs, took close to his heart for her liking.   
'You've been through the mill.'  
'Yeah?' he plucked her arm up and traced the outline of the Mark, kissing it quickly.  
'You have too.'   
'I carry my years better!' she flicked him and pushed the tea towards his hands.   
Chortling he wrapped a free arm around her. 'Dunno, you're closer to 40 now.' he teased 'Still look 25, somehow.'  
'Clean living.' she said, deadpan, before leading him to her room once more.

'You make a habit of bringing strange guys back here?' Dean scowled, he had knocked before opening the door. John still in the shower, his off key singing coming from the bathroom.   
'You told people about the Bunker?'   
She shook her head. 'He followed the letter.'  
'Hows that work, he got you tagged or something?'  
'No, it's just his type of magic, it bounced around until it found me.'  
'That seems particularly wholesome to you?' he frowned, remembering that Crowley had tracked her phone on more than one occasion.   
'No.'   
'And you just invited him in? He could be a Demon! He could be, I dunno, working for your mom! Did you check?'  
'Really, Dean?' she rolled her eyes. 'I think that I'd know, and no fucking Demon in the world would be able to posses him.'  
'He could be evil for all we know!.' he snapped, gesturing angrily with his palm. Sam never did that, but he snapped to when Dean did, a strange military gesture, curt and demanding.  
'He's from Liverpool.'   
'Who the hell is he Tem? You never spoke about him before. Who the hell is this English guy in my house?'  
She was about to argue, but a sudden burst of pain in her arm made her curl over on herself and hiss.  
'Fuck!'  
She wasn't angry, it wasn't her anger.   
'Tem, whats happening?' Dean hovered over her, his hands fluttering to her shoulders.  
'Cain.' she gasped. It was horrible, because it wasn't anger, it was joy, manic joy. It hurt so much more than the pain had.   
Dean's face was a mask of concern he took her arm, looking at the Mark as it flickered beneath her skin. The pain began to recede and she let out a breath.  
'Is it getting worse?'  
'No.' she shook her head, cold sweat running down her spine. 'Its not changed that much, just now it was different. I was feeling him, channeling him.'  
Sam's voice, followed by his body, was at the door. 'We got a hit!.'  
The Map in the central chamber, the war room, was all lit up and Dean hastily wrote down locations where beacons of magical activity had flared while Sam and Temperance checked the signals to see what they were.  
'Who is it?' she asked, unnecessarily, she felt in her gut that it must be her mother.  
'Abaddon. Bet anything on it.' Dean snapped him note book shut and looked at her, his eyes darting to her arm. She could see the questions forming on his lips and cut him off.  
'Yeah, I'm ready.'  
'I don't think its Abaddon.' Sam spoke up, looking at a read out. 'Its not Demonic, or, well, theres nothing to say it is Demonic.'  
Temperance shared a look with Dean, both of them doubtful, but she nodded. Sam's toys had never lead them astray before.  
'Ok, I'm driving.' Dean said.  
'Where we going?' John appeared, his tie loose around his neck and an unlit cigarette between his lips.   
'Demon hunting.' Sam said, looking at him with barely contained awe. 'You want in?'  
'Yeah, just my kinda thing!' he said, chuffed, clapping his hands. 'I'll get me coat!.'  
Temperance went to follow but Dean stopped her with a hand.   
'Is he coming?' he asked pointedly.  
'He's an exorcists, a Hunter, sort of. He can handle himself in a fight.'  
'Right' Dean grabbed his jacket. 'Come on, lets go!.'

They drove at breakneck speed to the largest cluster, in Minnesota, Dean barely stopping to sleep.   
It had been years since she had spoken with John, she loved him still, but it was strange to look around and see him there. Stranger still that he was staying there. When they stopped for fuel, the tank was running on fumes by that point, John unfolded himself from the seat and stretched.  
'This is a nice car.' John said to Dean.  
'Thanks.  
'Is in not a bit noticeable though?' John continued. 'Always said that about Tempy's orange thing, but who am I to talk, used to run round in a black cab for years. Mind you that were London so, less weird.'  
Temperance was at the register, paying with one of Crowley's credit cards, Sam was filling coffee beside her.   
'Is this ok for you?' he asked, glancing at John.  
'No.' she might as well be honest. Temperance was far from alright with this, she was waiting for John to leave, trying to enjoy it, trying not to lash out. The Mark was unsettled, it was always unsettled, but since he had shown up she had been off kilter and it made packing away the rage more difficult.   
They strolled back outside, her eyes on the two blondes. Dean wasn't scowling now he was saying something to John about the car getting possessed by a ghost. She hadn't known that and decided that she did not need to know more.   
'We're getting close.' Dean said, slowing down to take a turn off the highway.   
'What are we expecting?' John asked, striking his lighter to light and snapping the ld back down. The pale blue flame barely gutted from the movement.   
Sam glanced at Temperance, asking her to take this one.   
'I heard someone cast the Angels outa Heaven.' he grunted, waiting.  
'Yeah, em.' She looked at Sam who schooled his features to a careful blank.  
'We tried to close the Gates of Hell, but, we couldn't. At the same time some Angels went off the deep end and took over Heaven, out friend Cas, um, he's an Angel.' Sam explained 'He's against these guys, they wanna start the end of times and Dean and I are worried that, well, that the stuff going on in Hell is being reflected in Heaven. The chaos we began might have started this.'  
'So, you're trying to end it?' John said, levelly. His charm dialled down now, he stopped playing with his lighter.  
'Yeah.' Sam chewed his tongue a moment, and Temperance took pity on him.  
'My mother is trying to take over Hell, she's gathering an army and seeding chaos. I took the Mark of Cain to kill her, cause, you know, thats not strange at all. To, hopefully restore order.'  
He made a little noise to indicate he was listening and she tried not to squirm under his eyes.  
'My dad has been off the radar but I can feel him, through this.' she moved her arm and his cornflower eyes shot to it. 'He's not right, I think he's flipped.'  
'Christ.' he rubbed his jaw. 'If it is all 'as above, so below' , what is Cain's going evil going to do to Heaven?'  
'If the Knights are a dark reflection of the Archangels then what the hell is a good version of Cain, you mean?' Dean piped up.  
John nodded, grunted his agreement.  
'Tempy, of course.' he shrugged.  
She knew nothing showed on her face, she knew nothing gave her away. No one had ever, ever, expressed that kind of confidence in her before. No one. She put a hand over the Mark and looked out the window, at the blurry signs they passed by, she had been asking herself for so very long why she agreed to defy her mother. Why she agreed to take the Mark.   
Was she a soldier in some fucked up eternal battle between good and evil, she very much doubted it, she was a punk kid at heart, part of the pain of doing all this was that she had to fore herself to, she didn't want to. She was just trying to act like a good, not good person, she didn't think she was a person anymore, a good thing. She was trying to drag up some morals.  
She was trying to be like Dean.  
She took the Mark because he would have and that didn't sit right with her, the Winchesters shouldn't have to suffer this shit, when it was her family drama at its core. She knew that Sam was looking at her out of the corner of his eye, and, true to form, she gave him the finger to make him stop.  
The nearest light on their map had pointed to a timber forrest, they drove up the fire-road and found the gates swinging open. 'Everyone ready?' Dean asked. 'It could be Cain, could be Abaddon, and hopefully it aint both. We stick together and check this out, no one do anything until we know what we're up against.'  
'Yes, sir.' Sam said under his breath.

Carnage awaited them, it was a gravesite, neat and orderly and sprawling. Trees had been felled to make way for bodies and a freshly dead batch lay waiting in a trench.   
'Fuck.' Temperance walked down the crumbling verge, too disgusted to register the amount of death.  
Sam turned his face away before wadding through the mud to count them.   
Temperance looked at the bodies, laid out neatly, the youngest was only a boy. He had elbow and knee pads on, they type she had worn when she learned to skate. John was crouched down by the nearest corpse, a woman with blue streaked braids and a smudge of glitter on her eyelids.   
'No magic, they was human. Just murdered' he scratched his cheek, stood up.  
There was no pattern, they were young, old, male, female. A tall man with broad cheekbones and dark skin was laid beside a tiny red-haired woman with a pug nose. They weren't a family, at least not a biological one. They were people, all sorts of people, some in suits, some in rags. If they had anything in common she couldn't pin it.  
She looked at Dean, his serious green eyes were locked on to hers. Oh, he had an idea, painted across his face.   
'Cain.' he said.  
Cain, at the name the Mark flared to life. She looked into the trench and saw blood and offal and pain, thats what she should be doing, thats what she needed to do. Her eyed flickered to black, pain was good, pain sounded good. Even the burn in her blood was good, for all it hurt. Gasping she reeled back, pulling herself back together.   
'Shit.' she knew her dad, she knew the worst source of his shame. He had fathered murders, he had loosed killers on earth.  
'They're his descendants.' she said. 'He's killing again.'  
'Tempy.' John reached out, took her hand in his and brought it to his lips.   
Her eyes were firmly black, she tried to blink them away, but her shields were down. She could see John's soul beneath his body, she could see his power, his magic, layered above.   
'Leave them here, you can't do anything for them.' he said, turning her aside, so as not to have her looking at the death.  
She understood him to mean, don't carry the weight of this atrocity, its not laid at your feet. She felt a bright, burning flare of love for him, he knew her, he knew her so well. Knew her well enough that his words wouldn't change anything, but he said them anyway.   
'I know.'   
The child with knee pads on had a half healed graze on his lip, where he had fallen once and gotten back up again. He was so small against the others, he had lived so little of his life and now it was over. It had ended in violence. She touched the Mark beneath her sleeve, swallowing bile.   
John walked close to her, and wound his arm around her to steer her away. ' How do you know they're his bloodline?'  
'He believed.' she shook her head, clearing the dark trail of her thoughts. 'There is a theory that all his descendants are murderers. Every single one. Probably bullshit, but he bought into it.'  
'Can we find all his descendants? Is that even possible?' Sam asked, he took out his notebook, scribbled something down and dropped it back into his pocket.   
Dean was standing beside him, but his eyes were on the graves.  
'You could try.' the voice gentle.   
Temperance spun around first, knife in hand, shoving John behind her where he sprawled in the dirt. Dean, she saw, raised a gun and his hand didn't shake.  
'Dad.' Temperance said, waiting, waiting.   
'I hoped you would have the Blade. I wanted you to come get me, to bring it to me and try to kill me.' She could see him as he was to her, she could see him with or without her black eyes. The glamour around him didn't work on her, it never had, she was too close to him. He was her dad, after all. He looked wilder, more disheveled, scarier than he had ever looked.  
'Not try. I will kill you with it.' She didn't blink, she didn't drop her guard. She would kill him now if she could.  
He looked behind her, at John and smiled. 'The hedge magician, John Constantine. You broke my daughters heart, not that she has much of one to break, that was unkind of you. Perhaps I shall kill you for it.'  
'Many have tried.' John shrugged, edging closer to Temperance.   
Cain looked at his child, sneeringly.   
'Bring the Blade next time.' and before Dean could fire off a round, before any of them could do more then blink, he vanished. 

Dean had already promised himself that he would kill the guy, he wasn't going to let Temperance face that. He stared at the place where Cain had stood, then herded everyone back into the Impala. The drive home was fraught with tension but no one spoke, until they pulled into the garage and John said, as if nothing had happened.  
'So, if you'll have me, I may stick around.'  
Dean snorted 'Invite yourself in why don't-cha.'   
Sam elbowed him to stay quiet, giving him a look that told him to hear the guy out. He didn't want to, he seemed cool but he was a stranger and he didn't need new people right now. He needed a beer and then another and he needed to think about what they had to do.  
'Constantine, we're in a whole heap of fuck. Not the safest place to be right now.' Temperance hadn't slept the whole way home, she had been awake when he handed the keys to Sam and when Sam handed the keys back to him. There were dark bags beneath her eyes, she looked bruised.  
'I'm a mage of no mean skill.' he spoke around his cupped hands as he clicked his lighter 'A fellow of great ingenuity.'  
Temperance, Dean noticed smirked at that, some of the exhaustion wearing off her face. She didn't speak though, silent beside the lanky blonde, she had her grey, stormy, eyes locked onto his face, one brow raised, something mocking in her look.  
'Oi! I am!' John slapped her side.  
'Yes, dear.' she agreed.  
'Listen, lads, he knows everyone, like everyone. He's never at a loss for what to do and he could charm the nickers off a nun.'  
The man smirked, a tiny flush of colour on his cheeks. 'Could, and have!'  
This was exactly why Dean didn't want him around. He didn't want a cocky, charming, Witch from Temperances' storied past walking around in his boxers and smelling of sex in their house. He didn't want to deal with whatever it was between them, between John and Temperance. There was nothing between her and himself for Dean to deal with. He scowled at them, he felt that scowling was all he had been doing the past few years, hell, the past decade.   
Temperance's eyes were daring Dean to start shouting at her, he could see it, the little flicker in their depths. That wasn't the Mark's work either, that was all her. How did she know what he was thinking, shit, he had always wondered if she secretly could do the Demon thing of reading peoples thoughts.  
Sam was nodding, waiting fro his brother to agree, Dean sighed heavily, running his fingers through his hair.   
'Look, Abaddon is on to us, she's after us. Cain is gonna hunt us for sport and there is a fair few Angels pissed at us too.' he ticked off.   
'You're a Hunter, or Witch or whatever, if you can help thats great but, look, if you two are together or fucking you need to know the job comes first.'  
Sam sniggered, hastily pretending to cough when his brother glared at him.  
'S'not a problem' John nodded, thought Temperance's face was a little too blank to show agreement with that.   
'So, uh, you're sticking around?' Sam asked hopefully.   
'Help you kill a Demon, I've sent loads of em back to Hell.'  
'You owe loads of them.' Temperance pointed out as they ambled back to the map table.  
'They cant collect though!' he grinned, tapping his temple with a blunt finger. 'Old Johnny's seen to tha.'  
Sam shot a worried look at Dean as they both registered this statement. 'You sold your soul?' he asked.  
'Oh, a few times over.' John shrugged, expressively. 'Managed to get a touch of lung cancer cured that way.'  
Great, just great. Dean glared at him.  
'Managed to piss of all the Princes of Hell as I recall. Got yourself into an immortality pickle that it would take an act of god to get you out of.' Temperance was looking down at the map, but she wasn't counting the lights or checking the read outs.   
'Yeah. Thats me all over, innit?' John nodded, happily.  
'So, you can't die?' Dean asked, a little awestruck and a little disgusted.  
Temperance snorted a laugh. 'Yes he can, he just fucked shit up enough that someone will resurrect him. Too many players after the goods, too much trouble to collect.'  
'If one of em takes me they are all contracted to destroy each other, I'm a beacon of civil war down there.'  
'They are already having one of those.'  
John grunted, suddenly more serious. 'Yeah, I had heard, actually.'  
The change in his tone chilled the air between himself and Temperance, some connection between them was suddenly ice cold.  
'Thats why you came looking for me?' she asked shrewdly.  
'Well, that and I missed you.' he said after a pause, hunching his shoulders around his ears. Temperance's demeanor didn't change, but her voice suddenly sounded hollow and fragile.   
'You're such a cunt.' she put her fists into her pockets. Dean didn't like that voice, that wasn't his friends voice at all. She had been smirking a few minutes ago, she had been ok, as ok as she could be. What had changed.  
'You love me though.' he winked.   
Dean saw then what she meant about charm, he seemed to think he could talk his way out of whatever she was about to throw at him. John had come to her for help, not for her, shit, that was cold.   
'Don't.' she held up a warning hand, the brand burning on her skin beneath her shirt. 'Don't piss me off, I am in no shape for it.'  
Dean rubbed his eyes, trying to get a handle on this. 'You came here to get our help?'  
'Well.' the blonde man looked uncomfortable and returned to fiddling with his lighter, suddenly his happy air vanished and was replaced by something darker. Something like Temperance.   
'Abaddon's trying to collect, she almost had me once already.'  
'Who's fucking fault is that?' Temperance muttered, eyes black once more.   
'Yeah I know!' John spun, scowling. 'Can we not fucking fight for ten minutes?'  
'Oh I'm sorry I forgot this is all about you!' her voice a growl, not even a bit human.   
'For once!' he shouted.   
'Yeah, if thats ok, for once this isn't poor fucking Tempy and her fucking foot in each world bollox.'  
There was a tense moment, Temperance's smoke dark eyes flashed with fury, her fists opened and closed and the muscle in her clenched jaw jumped. Dean had his gun in his hand in an instant, Sam had grabbed the handle of his knife. The lights in the room jumped in their sockets, flickering wildly, then she breathed out through her nose, making a monumental effort to remain calm.  
John looked aghast and he sucked in his cheeks. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean tha'.'  
'Yes you did.' she closed her eyes, when she opened them again they were human, in colour at least.   
'It would hurt a lot less if you would just decided what the fuck you want me for.' there was no venom in her voice, it was resigned.   
John scrubbed the back of his neck 'Yeah, just, not now, alright?' he looked at the brothers 'I can help you, you's can help me.'  
'If this is gonna be a problem' Dean gestured between them, words failing him.   
'We'll, uh, leave you to talk.' Sam interrupted and hastily dragged Dean away. 

The broken couple were left eyeing each other with trepidation.  
John broke the long silence with a harsh laugh 'I've not changed so much. Still selfish and, what was it you said? A cynical bitch with an adrenaline addiction and questionable morals? Still all that.' he put a hand into his pocket and pulled out a crumbled packet of cigarettes.  
'It's what I love about you.' her tone easy once more.   
'Your questionable morals and adrenaline addiction.'  
'You called me a scummy con man with shit taste in music.' he was tearing the silver paper inside the cardboard package.  
'You are.' she smiled, a small smile and touched his arm 'I didn't say it was a bad thing.'   
He looked up hopefully. 'I should have said yesterday, I just didn't want to ruin it. I wanted a little longer to be the man who came back for you, not for himself. I wanted to be the knight in shinning armour, for once.'  
'Don't be stupid.' she said touching his wrist. 'I'm not a fan of binary things, remember.'  
'Thats why you like me?' He chuckled weakly and kissed her hand.  
'I came to you for help, but I came for you too. I love you Tempy. Nothing could stop me loving you.' his fingers laced through her own.  
A flash, pain and hope mingling in her eyes. 'I'm still not better, not really, all the reasons you left.'  
'Shh' he cut her off and kissed her forehead, gathering her close. 'All those reasons were bollox, I were just afraid of how much I needed you. I was scared I'd get you killed like I do everyone else.'  
'As if.' she scoffed, relaxing into his chest. 'Take more than you and yours to do away with me.'  
'I know.' he lifted her chin, his face was so awash with pain that she was surprised he wasn't crying.   
'I thought that I could lock it away and pretend, thought I could forget and then you would move on and I could hate myself that little bit more.'  
They held on to each other a while, then she sat him down. 'We're a mess, the pair of us.'  
'Yeah.' he nodded. 'Goes with the territory. Speaking of, these two lads, I've heard of 'em. Legends in their own lifetime, in the Hunting circles anyway.'  
'They're good, very good. I think they could have done this without me, really.' she touched her Mark, thoughtfully   
'Handsome too.'  
'I thought Dean was your type when I first met him, wait till you see him in the nip.' she kissed his palm and folded it to his chest. He followed her movements with kind eyes, a crinkling smile as she said.   
'So, explain.'   
His relief was palpable and he gripped her hands tightly. 'She's killed off most that I dealt with, just one or two more and she can be rid of me. I'm just an irritation to her.' he paused 'Well, that and I dumped her kid.'  
'One or two?' she ignored the last remark, pointedly.  
'Yeah.' he looked suddenly uncomfortable again 'Well, one,'  
'Cutting it a bit close to ask for help.' she pointed out.  
'Well, eh, it's with Gus.'

'Constantine!' that shriek brought the brothers running, they were in time to hear the next shouting match. She berated him at length in Italian before kicking the bench and smacking a hand onto the metal. Her phone shook in her fist as she dialed her best friend. 'I want to see you, now.' she growled.  
'Oh, kinky is it?' he appeared, his suit impeccable, his usual grin sliding off when he saw the mage. He blinked, snorted and said. 'Johnny boy.'  
'Lo!' John mumbled, face in his hands. 'Been a while.'  
Temperance was glaring daggers at the demon. 'You made a deal with him?” her voice very calm. 'Why?'  
'Well, it was a nuanced business arrangement. 'We both benefited, as I recall.' Crowley began to smirk.  
'How could you!' she admonished, slapping him without heat about the shoulders.  
'I'm a bloody Demon!' his annoyance visible in the set of his mouth, he huffed, straightening his clothing. 'It has been on my mind since Abaddon made her reappearance. I can try get the contract, but, well.'  
'But it's not safe?' John finished his sentence as he trailed off.  
'Yes.'  
'Figured as much, it's why I didn't call you.'  
Crowley rolled his eyes 'The lot of you are such martyrs, its disgusting, makes a man want to wash.'  
'Oh, I fancy a bubble bath, me.' John at ease with the Demon in a way that indicated something like a friendship, Crowley's lips twitched into an unwilling smirk.  
Dean was stuck by the absurdity of it all and barked a long laugh, opening a beer against the counter top. Crowley had actual friends, he knew real people. If anything, that was the strangest part of this whole ordeal.   
Sam grit his teeth, clearly doing his best not to shout in frustration, and said. 'So, what do we do?'  
Now they had another problem, a problem they were obliged to deal with. Dean wasn't going to let anyone get dragged to Hell, especially not by Abaddon.  
'We could stick him in a warded room until we do away with mummy dearest?' Crowley suggested.   
'Hang on, I'm not sitting this out!' John grumbled.  
'Might be best.' Temperance pointed out, she looked at Dean, asking his advice. He wished he knew what to tell her.   
'Look, I can go get the contract, if Gus is willing to let it go.' she said.   
'I am.' Crowley agreed.  
'Where is it?'  
'It should be in my safe.'  
'Which one, Oman, Russia, Istanbul? I'm not going to break into the palace in Monaco again.'  
'In my office, my real office' he explained pointed to the floor. 'Downstairs.'   
'In Hell?' Sam asked, to which both Temperance and Crowley nodded.  
'Ok, but how is Tem gonna break into a safe in Hell when her mom's looking for her?' Dean looked at his brother, who shrugged, this wasn't something he had planned for.  
'Who said anything about breaking in. I know the code.' she looked affronted.  
John chuckled, bouncing to his feet. 'Right, so we go to Hell and go get it, easy peasy.'   
'I go.' Temperance lifted s finger and pointed it at her own chest. 'Alone.'  
'We go.' Dean and John spoke together, which seemed to amuse the Demon to no end. Crowley smirked, sitting down and crossing his ankle over his knee. He watched them with mocking eyes and Dean resisted the urge to fling his beer bottle at him, to get that look off his face.  
'Sam?' Temperance asked, clearly looking for a voice of reason.  
'One person would be best, two for back up but we can't all go. Its a huge risk.' he said.  
'I'll do it, Tem, tell me where the safe is.' Dean spread his hands to indicate no one should argue with him. It was best that he go, he had experience, and he wasn't as important as Temperance was is all this, they couldn't' afford to lose her. He had a feeling if John or Crowley got hurt doing this then that Mark would fuck with her. So, he should go, it made sense.   
Temperance was difficult to read at the best of times, but something about him offering seemed to shatter the mask she wore. She looked furious.  
'No, you shall not. You're human, its fucking Hell. It will only take a few minutes, unless the place has new wards up.'  
'Which is why I should go.' John countered. 'I'm good wif' magic.'  
Stalemate, they glared at each other in silence until Temperance relented, with a snarl. 'Fine, all of us.'  
Dean glared at her, then at Crowley 'Find out what we're up against.' he spat.  
'I reckon we try find out a good time to do this, can we call Abaddon away from Hell somehow?'  
'She is supposed to be having a conclave soon, I can try a contact, see what they know.' he said, smoothly.   
'Yeah? That would be helpful.' Dean grudgingly admitted. 'Thanks.'  
'Don't mention it!' he waved a magnanimous hand, Temperance snagged his whiskey before he vanished.  
'How does he keep getting through the wards?' Dean asked Sam, who shook his head.  
'Want me to have a look?' John offered, side stepping Temperance, who was chugging Crowley's expensive Craig with a single-mindedness that would have impressed a drunk. 

'I'll go and pack a bag and get ready.' Dean said, not wanting to see her reach the bottom of the bottle.  
'Oh, let me come with you. This place is dead cool.' John had long legs, they caught up with him quickly. He was humming a song, Dean felt a little jog in his memory at the familiar quality of the tune.   
'Whats that song?'  
'Hmm? Oh, its the Misfits. Tempy's always had a soft spot for 'em. It was a Misfits song she were playing when we met.'  
'Playing?” he asked, stooping to pick up a box of salt from the shelf. He needed to have a dedicated Hell bag, he thought, kicking himself for not having one already.   
'She were in this band, got a gig doing covers in a bar in New Orleans. Shit-hole place, but on a nexus of power, real Voodoo power. I were there with me mate, Chas, having a drink, having a smoke, relaxing. Then theres this feeling, like the feeling before a storm, itching in the back of me 'ead. Its magic, more than magic, its power. I thought it were the nexus so I shrug it off, but as the band plays on and I'm eyeing up the drummer, I realise its her.' he smiled, a far away smile at this memory. 'Chased her into an alley after that and she knifed me, memorable that were.'  
'She stabbed you?'   
'Well, never been one for good first impressions, and really quickest way to a mans heart.' he smirked down at Dean 'Through the ribs.'  
'Jesus.' He wasn't even that shocked, Temperance was stabby, it was as good a word as any for her.  
'Somefing very attractive about a woman who knows her way around a filleting knife.' John sighed.  
Dean gathered his weapons and they returned to the war room, he took a breath, forming a plan in his head.   
'So, Abaddon's probably still in her red-head vessel? If she's in her skin she's vulnerable. Hopefully we don't meet her but if we do, well, we can take her, together.' He had the First Blade in his coat, he knew that Temperance knew by the way she angled herself away from it even as her dark eyes were drawn to its outline. 

They spent hours planning, Temperance explained the office layout, the safe, the protection that was usually in place. John kept drifting off, his eyes on her, his hands would wander to her side and wind about her not matter how much she pushed him off.   
He liked her alright, he really liked her. She must like him because she hadn't gotten annoyed at him for it.  
Dean couldn't take it, after a while he stood. 'Lets go for a drink, I need a drink.'  
He drove them into town, and hurried into the low ceilinged trucker bar near the highway. It was dark and dingy and cheap, but the beer was good.  
John was talking to Sam about Demons, about the bodies they could possess and how the hierarchy in Hell worked. Sam barely touched his drink, making notes, asking excited questions that Temperance occasionally added an answer too.   
He, Dean, drank steadily, looking at the other patrons, wishing he was alone. He zoned back in at Abaddon's name.  
'Did you make a deal with her?' Dean asked.  
'No! I try to steer clear of her type, Knights, fighters. They tend to disembowel first and ask questions later. Thats where Tempy gets that from.' he smirked as she stood to get more drinks and began to rummage through his pockets for his cigarettes.  
'You ever seen her? Abaddon?'  
'I know what she bloody looks like.' he gave up on finding his lighter and Dean saw him use magic for the first time, a strong streak of flame leapt up form between his pinched fingers and he bent his head to it.   
'She's a Demon, yeah? She looks like what you expect 'em to look like, not like those smoke things, she's older than that.'  
'So, what, scales and horns and shit?' Dean snorted. 'Isn't that s bit science fictiony?'  
'Your a monster hunter!' John chortled.  
Temperance arrived back to the table with three tall beer glasses, held in a triangle between her hands, Sam following with his own drink and a dish full of nuts.   
'Tem!' Dean pulled her into conversation, feeling a little more friendly, maybe the beer was working on him. 'I trust you on this, what do Demons actually look like?'  
'What? You've seen them smoke out.' she passed around the drinks.  
'See!' he picked up his glass triumphantly. 'Smoke!'  
'Unless they're greater Demons, the first made, like my Mam. They went to Hell body and soul, they look like a fecking medieval drawing of a Demon. Actually, a few were based on her, as I recall.'  
'Like I said.' John twined his arm around her and winked at Dean. 'I know what she looks like.'  
'So, what do you look like?' Sam asked, which made the table fall silent.   
'Its just, well, I know what I think you look like but, sometimes its like you slip away form my eyes. Cain was like that too, it was weird, looking at him.'  
'Yeah, its a glamour.' John explained. 'He looks like whatever you expect him to look like'  
'Or what you find most authoritative.' Temperance added, glumly.   
'What does he look like, to you?' she asked, looking up from her drink.  
Dean took his time answering that 'He's got your eyes, your hair.' he didn't add that sometimes when she was mad that she looked exactly like her mother. 'White, maybe 50.'  
She shrugged. 'He doesn't look at all like me. Not even a little.'  
'But you do, I mean. You look like this?' Sam gestured to her.  
'Yeah. That thing you were talking about, like your eyes slip off me. Its part of the warding he put on me, as a baby, to keep me out of Heaven's eyes.' she took a peanut, rolled it around between her fingers.  
'It annoyed Constantine too.'  
John brushed a lock of hair, lazily out of her face. 'Makes you difficult to find.'  
'Thats why Gus tracks my phone.'  
'What!' Sam spat out his beer. 'Why the hell are you friends with that guy?'  
John laughed, his smokers voice cracking. 'Good luck! I'm still not sold on the slimy git and I've known him years!.' his face crinkled into a smile   
'First time I met him he wanted her to track down some bloody warlock in Chile, alone, cause he didn't fancy climbing a mountain to get there.'  
Warlocks, Dean narrowed his eyes, recalling the last time they had run into one of them.  
'Dick.' Temperance said, fondly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like the idea of Constantine tattooed! I'll fight anyone who says different.. :D


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'You're a better man.' John shrugged, tapping out another cigarette and putting it to his lips.  
> 'You would die for anyone, you would die for the good of it. Not me, I look out for me-self. The magic, its, I dunno, its a power trip. Being clever and getting into trouble is my alcohol, my amphetamines, not my nicotine. Cuz, well, nicotine is my nicotine. Hunting is the high, not the good it does. I'm not a good man, mate. Fuck me, I'm cancer. Use up everyone who ever gets near me, kill them mostly by getting them involved.' John's face was a crease of quiet despair, guilt weighed him down. He took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. ....
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

Crowley's intel was slow coming, but late one Sunday he showed up, ready to go.   
'Tonights the Council, so the red terror should be busy, and I've found out what new protections she's put on the place. Most are directed at your's truly, she's desperate to keep me out.'  
Dean had his kit bag open. He loaded his pockets with silver knives, holy water, and a few charms, before checking the barrel of a gun and tucking it into his belt. He nodded to Crowley to show he was listening.   
'Chalk?' Crowley held out a hand and Sam tossed him a stick. 'This sigil should shield you, she would feel Temperance arriving by Demonic means, so we can't go in the easy way. You step in through this and you leave through this, it will keep her blind to any trace of you. In theory.'  
'In theory?' Temperance had her most flat and deadpan of tones on.   
'Magic man can open a portal, they wont feel his magic in his.' Crowley nodded to John who tapped a finger to his head and offered the Demon a strange salute.  
They arranged themselves on the floor while Crowley drew complex wards around the room. John had his lighter in his hands, he barely seemed to put it down, and when the sigil was complete he took Temperance's hand, bringing it to his lips.   
'Ready?' he asked.

Dean put his hand on the guys shoulder and suddenly they were whooshing through the air, the floor gone from beneath their feet, as quickly as it had happened Dean was standing on solid ground again.   
He opened his eyes in an office, a room that wouldn't have ben out of place in an English manor or some sort of private prep school. It was panelled with wood and lined with book shelves. The desk was kind of familiar and he couldn't help but ask.  
'Is that the President's desk?'  
It was a big oak thing, all carved and polished, but the centre panel was missing, thats what had thrown him, there was no Presidential seal. It had to be the same desk, Dean had seen enough pictures of it to know.   
'Yeah, he nicked it a while ago.' Temperance waved him for silence, a little frown on her face.  
She gestured them to stay still and walked over to a tall scrolled mirror. Feeling around the edge she pressed on a tiny swirl of filigree and it swung open, revealing a safe beneath.  
It was a huge cast iron thing, with no visible handle. Its surface was peppered with a series of tiny arrows all pointing in random directions. It was these that she began to arrange, east, west, south-west, north, into a pattern that, after a moment, opened a tiny pane of metal in the centre of the safe. Temperance pressed her thumb to a throughly modern fingerprint scanner beneath this and then the metal door split neatly in half and moved aside.   
It was full of contracts and cash, several lacquered boxes and a few amber jars, sealed with wax. Dean tried not to guess what they were.   
Temperance called the mage to her side and he raised his fingers. A scroll of paper nudged its fellows aside and seemed to reach for him. She plucked it up, looked at the name to ensure it was his, then tucked it into her pocket. Dean took a peek around the room, happy with how easy that had been. They could head home and get back to the serious business of destroying Abaddon.   
He was a little annoyed about the desk,ca mont blanc pen and inkwell and a picture frame showing, predictably, a photo of Crowley himself were pushed to one side, leaving the rest bare. Crowley helped himself to anything he liked, nothing was sacred to that guy, but this desk, Roosevelt and Kennedy had sat at this, it was history, American history. Dean couldn't help it, he put a hand to the surface.  
'No!' Temperance's rough warning was too late, there was a banshee wail of a siren and all around them, Demon's appeared, accompanied by the snarl of hell-hounds.  
Shit, the wards. Dean raised his gun and fired at the nearest Demon who collapsed, but got right back up again.  
'Fuck!' John's low rumble, he spread his hands, Dean caught the briefest flicker of green lights around his fingers as he wove a complex pattern in the air.  
'That wont work, Witch boy.' From the midsts of Demon's a flaming haired woman walked forward.  
Abaddon put a long nailed hand out to stop her minions attacking, a triumphant smile on her face Dean noticed, and wished that he had not, that smile, that expression that wasn't kind, Temperance had that, she employed it often enough.  
'Mammy.' Temperance had white knuckled hand was wrapped around John's bicep, holding him half a step behind her. Dean had the Blade, he was kicking himself for not handing it to her before they left. He tried to shuffle closer to her, but a snap at his ankles indicated a Hell-hound was watching him.  
'You shouldn't play with exorcists, might get yourself hurt.' she smiled, savouring their discomfort.   
'Oh, but not in a bad way, eh?' John joked.   
'You hurt my daughter's feelings. You disrespected me by doing that, so, sorry Johnny Constantine you gotta die. Give me the contract, blondie, and I'll set you up with a nice condo down here.'  
'Listen, love, take more than you to kill me. I've got back ups to my back ups, my plans A through Z have a plan B. You can't touch me.' he spoke with more confidence than he felt, Dean knew that, but still found himself believing the mans words. They seemed to have power all of their own.  
'I've destroyed all your contracts and all the Demons who made them with you.' she said, conversationally, examining her golden fingernails. 'All of them.'  
John forced a smile, his teeth bared. 'Not all of 'em.'   
Abaddon's eyes zeroed in on the scroll poking out of Temperance's pocket. She took half a step forward.  
Dean didn't think, he threw the photo-frame, which caught the Queen unaware, and made a grab for John and Temperance's wrists, trying to drag them back to the sigil.  
Abaddon shrieked a laugh as her Demons surrounded them with ease. 'Can't outrun a demon in Hell, Hunter.'  
John yanked his arm free, preparing a spell as the snarling bark of hounds grew louder. Temperance dropped from Dean's grip, as suddenly as if she had melted away, she crouched down, hands touching the ground, and a light like no other filled the room, silencing the Demons and hounds alike.   
It hurt, it had a sound that seemed to ring around the men's skulls and rattle their teeth loose. There was a slap of mighty wings and then, just as it became unbearable, they opened their eyes to the Bunker. The chalk lines of the sigil were smoking slightly.  
'Blimey! That were a close one! Got what we were after though.' John beamed.  
Dean's head was reeling, he stumbled back against a chair and sank into it, a late rush of adrenaline had his legs shaking. That was too close, that was too stupid.  
Temperance stood up, there was blood leaking from her ears, it seeped lazily into her collar, thick and dark. She took the scroll from her pocket and slapped it into John's hand. Then she was spectacularly sick.  
'Sorry.' she managed to gasp, a shudder racking her thin frame. John laid his hands on her, forehead, not for magic, just to take her temperature.  
'You got a fever?' he asked, kindly, brushing back her hair.  
'Mark.' she said wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.  
'Hell and wings don't mix. I'll be fine, just need to vomit. Again.' She shrugged him off and staggered to the bathroom while he vanished the mess with an incantation, much to Sam's strange delight.   
'I might have an idea for that.' John mused, touching his arm to indicate the Mark.   
'Is this library any use?' he asked Sam.  
'Yeah! Its got everything.' Sam gushed.  
Crowley picked up the contract, smiling over it, he chuckled at one point, which made John look down and laugh too.   
'Well, a deal is a deal. John Constantine I release you from your contract.' the scroll began to smolder in his fist.  
'Thanks, mate.' John clapped him on the shoulder. ''So, mortal once more then. Got any whiskey?'   
A bottle appeared and Crowley poured a generous measure for them both, Dean held out a hand, and was surprised when Crowley gave him one too. 

Dean hated to admit it, hated to admit that he was admitting it. John was handy to have around, he knew a lot, like, a lot. He was good in a fight and having him around made Temperance happy, but there was something about him that just rubbed Dean the wrong way.   
A job called them north, him and John. Temperance had been boiling over recently and Sam had a few ideas to keep her balanced. She had looked mutinous at the mention of Yoga and Dean was almost sorry to miss the chance to see her do it.   
'This is nice, innit?' John said, cheerfully, plonking down into the booth across from Dean at a roadside diner. 'Lads trip away!'  
'You read that article? Got an idea what we're up against?'  
'Sort of.' He tucked into a plate of eggs with gusto.   
'I think its a Ghost, a bad death so maybe its attracted a Poltergeist. When we get into town I'll ask around, or try the library for old news clippings.'  
'You been up against one of them before?' Dean had banished plenty of Ghosts, too many to count. It was the first thing his dad had sent him up alone at, when he was a kid.   
'Once or twice, first time I hadn't a clue what I was at. Fucked it up royally if I'm honest.' John smiled, but his eyes were cold and distant.   
'How long you been doing this? Hunting and magic?' Dean had finished his breakfast and was fishing out cash from his wallet.   
'Oh, dunno, since I were a teenager really. I were in this band, yeah, and we really went for the auld Scooby Doo thing, you know? Have Van Will Exorcise.' he chuckled as they wandered out to the car.   
'I'm an old cynic now, the joy of its long gone. Sometimes its felt like the next job was all that was keeping me going.'  
Dean frowned at that, it sounded all to familiar. He choose his words carefully 'You tried to get out of it?'  
Dean had tried to leave, he had really tired, but parent teacher meetings and picket fences hadn't stopped the itch.  
'Me? Yeah, I'm a weirdness magnet, I should be retired by now, if I were a normal man.' John continued.  
'Huh?” Dean flashed a look at him as he turned a corner to a busy intersection. 'How old are you?'  
'63 this year.' John grinned. 'I know, I'm looking well, its the sorcery that keeps me young and handsome.'  
'Shit.' Dean stopped the car at a motel, giving the mage his full attention. He looked 40, a bit of a craggy 40 but not much older than Dean himself. 'How the hell does that work?'  
'Not well.' He answered darkly. 'I'm not immortal or anything, I just go slower.'

Half a days work had them standing in the dark outside a long abandoned bus station. It was on the city limits, crumbling into a weedy field that had sprung up around it, hoarding covered most of the windows and the facade was mottled with ivy and splotchy graffiti.   
John crouched at the padlock that held the rusted gates closed and pulled out a handful of picks from an inner pocket, a few seconds passed before there was a little click and the lock came away in his hands. They went forward cautiously, Dean taking point, pushing John a bit behind him.   
No sense anyone getting hurt but himself, was always his reasoning.  
The door was ajar, litter and empty cans gathered against the jam. 'Got a flashlight?' he asked.  
John clicked his lighter, the tiny blue flame seemed to give off more light than should be possible, Dean quirked a brow at him, wondering if this was more magic.   
'Witch light.' John said, with a shrug. The waiting room had been pulled apart, rows of empty brackets, where plastic seats had once lined the floor, were bent at strange angles and torn up here and there. The window that had covered the ticket booths was long gone, a few fading posters that were too mildewed to read hung sadly from the cracked walls. 'Oof!' John covered his nose. 'Thats a stench!.'  
A smell like rotting carpet, piss and old beer seemed to billow out from the darkness, Dean gagged into his elbow, keeping his gun ready.   
'This is where the first one died.' he said. 'You think theres gonna be any evidence left?'  
John made a noncommittal noise in his throat, looking around. 'Homeless people used to sleep behind the counter for warmth, poor fuckers, lets check there.'  
He held his lighter aloft and went in through the narrow door, the smell was thicker here and Dean felt his eyes water at the invasive stab of rot and decay. The room was empty, a few newspapers on the ground, a few bits and pieces of debris. Someone had drawn a big love heart on the wall and a stub of a candle was visible on a brick at its base. The smell, somehow, got stronger.  
'Fuck, dude, this is gross.' Dean spat on the ground, he could taste that in the back of this throat.   
'Yeah.' John was standing in the centre of the space, looking around, his brow furrowed. A little noise like the shuffling of feet, made them both jump. Deans gun came up once more, aiming into the darkness.  
The room had been empty, it had definitely been empty, so why the hell was there a man in the corner. He was so thin that he seemed insubstantial, behind lank curtains of hair they could make out a crocked nose and a few yellowing teeth.  
'So cold, mister.' he was wearing ragged layers, coats, scarves, half a dozen thick socks that didn't fit into his broken shoes. 'So cold.'  
'Fuck.' John muttered.   
'Ye alright mate?' he asked the apparition.  
'Cold.' the guy shuffled closer his arms coming up. 'Just wanna get warm misters, just gotta warm up.'  
'John!' Dean warned, trying to catch his sleeve and pull him backward.   
'I don't think he's alive.'  
'No. He's dead alright, poor sod.' John agreed, sadly  
'Gotta get warm.' his voice a death rattle, the closer he got the worse the smell became. Dean backed to the door, breathing through clenched teeth, but John stood his ground.  
'Come here, mate.' John opened his arms, the smell was unbearable and Dean tried to shout out but the words were lost in the thick, acrid, air.   
Watching, helplessly, Dean saw John wrap the dead creature in his arms, holding him tight in a kind, warm, embrace. He murmured something and the creature seemed to sag, falling down, being held up now only by John's body, then in a blink, he vanished.  
They stumbled out into the night air, spluttering fro breath.   
'What the hell?”  
'He just wanted to get warm, poor lad, probably died alone in the cold.' he stomped his feet, rubbing his hands together. Dean was shocked to hear the tears in his voice, the tremble as he cleared his throat. 'What a way to go.'  
'Is it over? What did you do?' Dean asked uncertainly.  
'Just gave him what he needed to move on.' John shivered, rubbing his arms vigorously 'He needed a little warmth, a little humanity, so I gave him it.'

Dean led him back to the motel, inside it became clear how strongly that smell was lingering on John's skin. He showered, stripping out of his blue suit and kicking it across the floor. When he was dressed in his trench coat and a clean shirt, Dean took him to a bar.  
The man looked devastated, his face streaked from crying. 'Sorry.' he mumbled into his pint 'That sort of magic isn't good for me.'  
'What was it?'  
'Love, giving a little over to help. Not usually my style.' He rubbed his face, wearily.   
'You were great.' Dean found himself admitting.   
'I wouldn't know what to do, you were amazing, man. I couldn't have done that.'  
'Course you could! From what Tempy's said you're a wonder.' John sounded close to tears again.  
Dean shook his head, sniggering without much mirth 'She's just being nice.'  
'She's never nice.' John took a swig of his drink, almost finishing it in one long gulp. In an unwelcome flash Dean remembered his dad doing that.  
'She's brutally honest with everyone, not with herself, but with everyone else.' He hunched on his stool, fumbled out a cigarette.  
'You guys broke up?' Dean kicked himself mentally for asking, he didn't want to know, he didn't need to know. Christ this trip was turing into a chick-flick.   
'I always got the impression it was a bad break up, but she don't talk about it much.'  
'I walked out on her.' John said after a while, flicking the ask from his cigarette into the overflowing tray.   
'She needed me and I left her, couldn't handle it, couldn't give her anything. I was in a bad place and she was in a bad place, she took such good care of me and I couldn't give it back, so I left. Said some 'orrible things too, when I went.'  
Dean took a long drink, waved over the barman for two more. He looked at John in the bar mirror, the older man ran a hand through his scruffy hair, chain smoking in silence until those bright blue eyes met Deans in the reflection.   
'I know you like her, and I think you'd be good with her.'  
'Hey! No, man, you've got the wrong idea!' Dean protested, weakly. He liked her, sure, she was his friend and they lived together, but he didn't like her. No way, ok he might sneak a peak every now and then and yeah, he got a little jealous of Crowley and of John, but he didn't want her. Shit, no, this wasn't a good train of thought. He had shook hands with this already, they were friends and that was that.   
John snorted, took a drink and winced down at the glass. 'Sure, no idea how either of us would get a look in with Crowley around.'  
Dean had to laugh at that, the bubbling discomfort of John's words and the thoughts they had thrown up were ebbing away.   
'You think that they ever? You know?' he repressed a shudder at that. The idea of Crowley bumping uglies was not something he wanted in his head, not ever.  
'No way!' the older man shook his head.  
'How come you call him Crowley?' he remembered how shocked she had been by the name when he had used it first.  
'Cuz she calls 'im Gus?' John shifted in his seat 'I knew his name, had to to make that deal with him, but he basically swore me to secrecy about it. Dunno why, he's a bit of a head case if we're honest.'  
'A bit?' Dean laughed. John joined in, but the joy soon slid off his face, that terrible sadness flooding him once more.  
'If I hadn't turned up, would you have made a move?' he asked, quietly to his ashtray.  
Dean paled, he shrugged, finished his drink and fidgeted with the empty glass. In Sardinia he hd thought about it, he had really thought about it, it was those damn bikinis! They should be illegal, she should be banned from bikini wearing.  
'I don't know, man, I really don't.'  
'You're a better man.' John shrugged, tapping out another cigarette and putting it to his lips.  
'You would die for anyone, you would die for the good of it. Not me, I look out for me-self. The magic, its, I dunno, its a power trip. Being clever and getting into trouble is my alcohol, my amphetamines, not my nicotine. Cuz, well, nicotine is my nicotine. Hunting is the high, not the good it does. I'm not a good man, mate. Fuck me, I'm cancer. Use up everyone who ever gets near me, kill them mostly by getting them involved.' John's face was a crease of quiet despair, guilt weighed him down. He took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh.   
Beside him, Dean, looked on in silence. Blondes with issues, wasn't that Temperance's thing. John really wasn't the cocky front he showed to the world, or maybe he was, shit, Dean didn't know him.  
'Wow, uh. Jesus, man, I don't know what to tell you.' Dean watched him play with his lighter, his head tilted to one side.  
'No need to say anything, just laying it out there. I've not got anything you don't 'ave. Its me thats lacking, you see, theres a black hole inside of me and it just consumes. It eats and gnaws. I'm no good.' he said.  
John's face was a picture of pain, his chapped hands were twisted together on his lap, like he was praying to something. There was a large gold ring on his index finger, it was clunky and awkwardly shaped. Dean could make out a complex letter 'C' stamped across the front.  
'Have you ever been in love, mate?' John asked, suddenly.  
'Yeah.' he still thought about Cassie sometimes, about the way it had been back then. The first girl he had ever loved, ever fallen in love with, and she had dumped him twice.  
'I had a few girlfriends and a few boyfriends, I thought I knew the symptoms, thought I knew what it was. Until Tempy. No ones ever really fit before, not the way she does. Being with her shaped the world so that it makes sense. It weren't earth shaking, it were steadying.' he tapped his tempe with a blunt finger. 'She made it steady up here, it went quiet when I met her. Since then I've needed her, but I never for a moment thought that she needed me.'  
Dean scrubbed his cheeks, sniffing loudly. He wasn't about to break down in a bar over a chick he had never even dated, kissed, once. Not a real kiss, just a show to distract a Leech. This wasn't healthy to linger on, he shoved it back, ruthlessly. John was in a bad place, the job had gotten to him, that was all.  
'Tem, she loves you. She thinks your worth everything. So don't think of yourself like that. She's my friend and she's, well she aint got good judgement, but I trust her. If she says your worth it you are, end of.'   
He stood, pulling John to his feet. The mage was older than he was, by decades, a little shorter and narrower. Dean knew what his skin looked like under the veil of his clothes, the scars and wards and wiry muscle. He was a good looking guy, he was charming, he was dangerous. Dean put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.   
'Thanks mate.' John straightened, throwing back his head. 'Well, enough of me feelings and bollox, lets get going!'

John's sombre mood lasted the journey home, he seemed to sigh when the garage door shut behind them. Temperance was sparring with Sam in the gym, they emerged at the sound of the car rumbling.  
'How was it? Ghost?' Sam asked, eager for details  
'Yeah, somefing like that.' John made a beeline for Temperance and pulled her into his arms, resting his head down on her shoulder.   
'Constantine?' she looked at Dean who shook his head and pulled his brother out of the garage.   
'I'm sorry' he muttered, through tears. 'I'm so sorry.'  
'What happened? Whats wrong?”  
He straightened up, shaking his head. 'Its been on my mind, us I mean. All the shit that happened, I never said sorry, I never tried to be sorry. I just came back here and you let me in again.'  
She took her time forming her answer. Carefully she said. 'You told me you couldn't love me any more. You told me that, and I thought that was the shit I deserved to hear. I was so fucking unworthy of life, how the fuck could I inspire anyone to love, to lust, to care. I was already a broken thing and you made it all so much more unbearable.'  
She didn't want to hurt him, she just wanted him to have the truth.  
'I were in a bad place, I was saying things that weren't really true, just to hurt you. So that you'd say something awful to me and I could hate myself and hate you. So that I could feel something. I were broken too. Chas, shit, when he died I felt like the world was ending. I couldn't breath. I needed you and you gave me everything and I resented not being able to lash out, to grieve in a huge dramatic way that everyone could see. I wasn't right, I was so bloody wrong and I am sorry. I am asking you to forgive me but I don't think I deserve to be forgiven.' His intensely blue eyes were fixed on her knuckles. He had taken her hand but wouldn't meet her gaze, wouldn't glance up to her face.   
'If you can't love yourself.' she shrugged, tracing the tear tracts on his cheeks.  
That was the problem, really, neither of them did love themselves, they barely even liked themselves.  
'How can we love each other when we hate ourselves this much? I hate me, if you love her I have no fucking respect for you.'  
'Snap.' John's voice still thick with tears, he stooped towards her again and rubbed his face against his shoulder.  
What a pair we are, eh?'  
'Unworthy of love. Useless, unattractive, ugly little shits,'  
'Sounds about right.' he put his hand to her cheek, looking at her now. He knew her, she forgot just how much he knew her.   
'I like you and I love you and I want us to be good, to be better than we were, 'cause I need you in my life and I want you to be part of my future.' he said, making a point of being clear and honest.  
What future did she have though, Temperance backed away from his touch, this was turmoil, this feeling. On her arm the Mark was screaming at her. She wanted him, but she wasn't right, she was tainted, she wasn't good enough to get a future.  
'I can't help you, I can barely help myself.'   
'Thats alright, love.' he followed her feet until she was in his arms. 'I'll help you for now and we will see where it goes.'  
'Remember Trinidad?' she asked, suddenly.  
'That bedroom with the rainbow umbrella for a light-shade? Yeah. I remember that. Remember being high and staring at it, it was so warm that night, there were mosquitos a foot thick on the window screen and you were wearing them tiny black shorts. I remember.' he spoke into her hair.  
'You told me about the bargain you had made, the Devil's bargain. You told me how much you hated yourself for it and one of the only reasons you helped anyone with the supernatural was because you felt guilty, like you owed the world something.'  
'Ugh, that bit about Trinidad.' he grumbled.   
'I made a Devil's bargain, taking this Mark. This means that no one can love me, I'm fucking tainted, man.'  
'Ssh!' he covered her lip with a stern finger. She could smell cigarette smoke off his hand and crinkled her nose at it.  
'Think about all the people that love you, that enjoy your presence and like you being around. Chas loved you, so don't disrespect his memory with that talk. Midnite even loved you, in his own way, and these boys love you.' he paused and added, as an after thought.  
'And Gus, Crowley, but that goes without saying. You could full on murder a baby and he'd still love you.'

'Don't tell him you knew about my Angel bits, he's still not over that.'  
'Ha! How did he find out?' John grinned.  
'I almost died and I couldn't hold it in, needed to heal.' she waked him to her room, to their room if he really was going to stick around.   
'I'll keep mum, don't worry.'  
He took off his jacket and hung it on a peg on the back of the door, then heaved a sigh.  
'I love you, Tempy, you know that I do'  
'I love you too, I can't help but to love you.'  
'Yeah? Thats somefing' I suppose.' he clasped her hand in his.  
She stripped him and gently pushed him back onto the bed, his eyes bored into her and she slowly unbuttoned her shirt and shrugged out of her jeans. She knew her body had changed recently, still thin but stronger than she had been, her skin was healthy from Sam's cooking, her hair less lank. She swung her legs over him, pinning him down on the bed.  
'I love you.' he panted, in between searing kisses. He let her set a pace, giving up control to her with a gasp. She arched her body, grinding down against his naked erection, he grunted, his hips jerking upwards involuntarily.   
He was hard and slick and felt perfect inside her, that first slow drag was something close to pain. 'Constantine.' she breathed out, the torturous tempo she set had him gnashing his teeth. It was delight, it was food for her soul, he pulsed and filled her out just the way she wanted. Just the way she needed.   
She picked up the pace with a grunt, a hand on his chest to keep him still, she felt something stirring, something lancing euphorically through her heart. 'I love you.' she panted, and meant it.  
'Fuck, what are you?” He cut himself off with a whimper. 'Jesus christ! Don't stop, fuck.'  
She smiled, he was vocal, but then her own rising pleasure made her shudder, she was so close, she needed him to hold on a little longer. A tell-tale tremble and his hands sank into her hips. 'Temperance! Tempy! Aghh!' his face distorting as the high plunged down around him, ecstasy and agony, delight and terror.   
She closed her eyes, giving herself up to it, when she came down, panting and shaking, he was staring at her in wonder. His cheeks were stiff with dried tears and he winced as he pulled her onto his chest. Too late she realised how hard she had held him.   
He kissed the top of her head, drooping his exhausted arms around her. They slept easily, their breathing deep and dreams untroubled.   
The next morning he stroked her hair, absently, eyes on the peeling ceiling paint. 'That were amazing.'  
'Mmh' she grunted in agreement, rolling over to stretch out her legs. She let him follow her into the shower, his hands trailing over her skin. He kissed her neck, holding her close under the spray while his hands wandered between her legs. They ended up back in bed, back in the shower, before drifting lazily out for dinner. In the kitchen Dean managed to tut at them and actually winked at John.   
He plated up food, his brother smirked at him over the couple's bowed heads, the silence was friendly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments would be welcome, this is just pouring out of me and I'd love some advice on language, style, edits etc. (unless that advice is 'use spell-check.' I swear that I do, I just spell things so wrong that it can't help me! :D)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean came to slowly, pain jolting through his arms and legs when he tried to move. As he opened his eyes he found himself entirely unsure of what he was seeing, if he was seeing. He had tunnel vision, a flaring corona of light that made everything dreamlike and difficult to follow. He blinked experimentally, tried to regulate his breathing and focus the way his dad had drilled him to.  
> John, it had to be John, who else had eyes that blue, was kneeling before him, his arms stretched out from his body. There was a ward painted on the concrete floor, his shirt was drenched in blood and sweat and all of his skin, that Dean could see, was raw and bleeding....
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

'Mummy dearest is on the hunt.' Crowley appeared one day, looking haggard, his suit was crumpled and stained. The sight of him had made Temperance drop her mug and hurry to his side.   
He let her mother him a little, then said 'Its not just me she's searching for, dear John needs to keep his head down too.'  
'Typical.' Dean said, rubbing his temples 'Who does she not want to kill?'  
'Where is Constantine?' Temperance asked, looking at the Hunter.  
'Sam and him went on a supply run, should be back soon. He said he needed cigarettes and stuff to forge a couple of things for me, my license needs an update. '  
'Maybe text them a head up.' She said, going into her room and returning a few moments later with a mans shirt and jacket. Both belonging to Crowley, he smiled and began to change at the table, while Dean called his brother.   
'Never thought I'd get this back.' he said, shrugging on fine wool coat.  
'It's mine buddy, its on loan to you.' she warned  
His laugh was cut short as Castiel appeared beside them and the rumble of a car engine called out form the garage. The Angel had been subdued recently, working hard to get his Grace back, he had dropped in once or twice, but never for long.  
'It is urgent that we speak.' Castiel began, his neat shoes squeaking on the floor as he followed them down to the garage.   
John was reaching into the back seat for a bag of groceries, Dean spotted a familiar pie wrapper and hurried to help, brushing the Angel off to get to it. Temperance, taking a bag from Sam's hand, shuddered, something causing her to wince.  
The plastic carrier slipped from numb fingers and her over-wide eyes rolled to the back of the car. There was an instant where she, or Castiel or even Crowley, could have reacted, but it passed by. A moment in time, quickly lost. They were all too shocked, too taken aback by the sudden rush of magic and power that spiraled around the still open garage door.  
'What a nice place.'   
Abaddon's red hair was a flame like nimbus, around her head. Crowned with fire, she reached forward with two clawed hands and clasped John and Dean firmly they shoulders. Both of them, off guard but fighters to the core, reached for something to use as a weapon and both were tossed, as easily as the bags of groceries had been, to the ground. The magic trembled, the vortex around Abaddon was shaped of colour and roaring sound. Temperance ran forward, recovering first, only to be knocked back as a shock wave burst out.   
It shattered her car windows and threw her bodily over against the rocking frame. Car and woman were pushed over the garage floor by the force of it, crashing with a screech into the wall.   
The blast took out Sam and banished Crowley and Castiel from the Bunker as the wards fluctuated to cope with the magical intake. Sam's head bounced against the doorframe, opening a deep gash in his scalp, that left a red splatter on the tiles. They couldn't know if Dean or John saw it happen, the second that the shock wave hit the portal had shut, taking the men with it.

Dean came to slowly, pain jolting through his arms and legs when he tried to move. As he opened his eyes he found himself entirely unsure of what he was seeing, if he was seeing. He had tunnel vision, a flaring corona of light that made everything dreamlike and difficult to follow. He blinked experimentally, tried to regulate his breathing and focus the way his dad had drilled him to.  
John, it had to be John, who else had eyes that blue, was kneeling before him, his arms stretched out from his body. There was a ward painted on the concrete floor, his shirt was drenched in blood and sweat and all of his skin, that Dean could see, was raw and bleeding.   
'John.' Dean tried to croak, he sputtered, his mouth dry. Working spit over his parched tongue he said again. 'John.'   
The man moved, slightly, it might have been a nod, it was difficult to say. His chin dipped forward and his eyes slid closed. Chain began to clank and Dean felt his arms pulled upwards, his body following as he was raised to his feet. Pain flared in his shoulder blades from the weight, but his feet wouldn't cooperate with his legs, he couldn't raise himself to stand.  
'Hello, Dean Winchester. It is good to see you again.' Cain's eye were hollow, glittering madly in the half light. '  
'Go to Hell!' he spat, hoarsely. He ached all over, bruises were forming on his arms where the metal gripped his skin and his head was fit to split from the magical aftereffects that had brought him here.  
'Already there, friend, already there.' Cain held a long, thin, filleting knife aloft, blood dripped from the handle, over his closed fist. Dean followed the trail of it, disgust boiling in his gut. The ward that John was in had been crudely painted in his own blood.   
'You son of a bitch, I'll kill you!' He pulled uselessly against his bonds which made Cain chuckle.  
'Oh, no need for the show. He's still alive, I plan to keep him alive for quite some time. Its much more fun that way, and when he does die, you can take his place.'  
'You're not gonna get the chance buddy.' Dean shook his head.   
'Tem will get here, Sam will, they're gonna tear through you like nothing!'  
'They aren't here yet.' he said, lightly, fingering his knife.  
'I must thank dear Abaddon from giving me you, she did it to save her own skin, of course. Such a thoughtful woman.'  
'You and her can both go into the ground together then, you Demonic son of a bitch.'  
In the ward, John was dying, his breathing shallow. Dean didn't know how he managed to raise his head but he did and he smiled that John Constantine smile.  
'Here, Cain, tell me this cuz I've always wondered. Did you fuck your mum?'  
A vicious backhand couldn't stop that smile and he continued 'Cuz there's only one woman yeah? Only Eve.' he raised his battered face, welts hid those sharp cheekbones, his front teeth were chipped. 'So you must have done?'  
'You are not worth the effort John Constantine, I would kill you now but I want to lure my daughter here so that I may kill her.' he sounded bored.   
'Ah, she might prefer me dead.' John reasoned, spitting blood on the floor.   
'Not a great bloke am I. Though I can make her oh so happy, in a carnal way. Oh, Cain, let me tell you, you raised a screamer.'  
Another violent smack of Cain's large fist. Cain put the point of the knife between Johns shattered teeth, and spoke calmly, as if he wasn't angry at all. 'I can take your tongue.'  
'Oh, that will upset her.' he spoke around the knife, blood trickling from his lips.   
Dean shook his head, silently pleading with John to just shut up, to button his mouth closed and not bait him, but then, with the clarity of the damned, he saw. Cain was on the very edge of the ward, one slight movement would topple him in, but then what. Dean didn't know, but John must. He was playing for time, with his life.   
'I see.' Cain said, smiling, and stepping back.   
John sagged a little.   
'You wish me to be trapped with you, to spare this one?'  
Dean straightened his back and Cain levelled the knife point at his chest.   
'Yes, I suppose she would never forgive you for letting another friend get hurt, John Constantine. You're getting predictable in your old age.'  
'Oof.' John muttered, with barely a loss ob bravado. 'No need for that. You're hurting my feelings.'  
'You don't have any.' Cain replied, but he was looking at Dean, that murderous glint in his eye. '  
Do you see this ward, Winchester. Do you know what power the mage's blood holds? Let me explain it to you, dear John made a deal with a Demon once. He received the gift of healing in that Demon's blood, that blood merged with this own. John Constantine's blood is not human, the wards are so much more effective at trapping Demons and keeping out Angels when they are made in hybrid blood.'  
Dean tensed as the wicked point of the knife came to a rest just under his eye. 'You got a point to this lecture? Only I'm getting pretty tired and never enjoyed when the bad guys monologue.' Dean's father used to say that sarcasm was the last resort of the witless, but he'd be damned if he was going to die without getting a word in.  
Cain dragged the sharp blade down, almost thoughtlessly, carving a shallow streak through Dean's cheek. Dean hissed at the sting of it, flinching in his bonds.   
'If only you stopped to listen, Winchester.' he sighed, lowering the knife and throwing a hard, gut crushing fist into Dean's exposed stomach.   
'If only you stopped to listen!'

Something had happened, there was a reason why she was covered in blood and powdered glass, there was a reason her head was throbbing and her spine was screaming in protest. Her eyes were open, yeah, she could see. A ceiling, a familiar ceiling, magic in the air, and hot metal and rubber.  
'Fuck!' she sat up. The garage door looked like it had been hit with a mortar, great petals of the rolling door had licked around the frame, and the day outside was beginning to dim.  
'Sam!' Temperance extracted herself from the twisted hulk of metal that had been her passenger door and crawled across the wreckage to Sam, lying prone on the ground. Her body was healing itself, her eardrums stitching back together, skin knitting tightly over recent wounds. 'Castiel! Gus!' there was no answer.  
Sam was grey and still on the floor.   
'You're not dead.' she decided, pulling him onto his back.   
'You're not fucking dead Winchester!'  
The Mark burned on her arm, of all the power she had to hand it fought the most for freedom. Viciously she shoved it back down, anger could wait, calling forward anything at all that could heal him. She was the child of an Archangel, she could peel a soul from the hands of Death itself.   
Sam's heart fluttered, reassuringly alive. She touched his chest, clawing her hands over that still beating heart and she tore something out of her mind. Something that had been locked away for decades, forever.   
She healed him, she healed him down to his very DNA, she poured everything she had into him and suddenly, miraculously, he reared up. A scream on his lips that quickly died down. He blinked, taking stock, took a breath, then another.  
'What happened?' he asked, awestruck eyes on the great form on her wings. The garage lights had gone out in the blast, an otherworldly luminance seemed to gather around her.  
'Abaddon took John and Dean, Cas and Gus seem to have been banished.' she had to really think about packing that power away, it boiled in her veins, trying to destroy and heal at the same time. She concentrated hard on folding her wings away and then, felling more normal, she helped Sam to his feet.  
'How do we find them!' he asked, distraught. He took in the chaos that had been Dean's orderly garage. The tall tool chests had burst open when the cars hit them, spanners and sockets littered ground around his feet. Glass had scattered in diamond like chunks from the force of the blast, peppering the room with an icy glitter.   
They hurried to the war room, the map and monitors were all silent.   
'How do we find them?' he asked again, his voice perfectly level.  
She took out her phone, it was cracked and broken, electrical components spilling out of her fist. In a rage she threw it against the wall, the Mark roaring. She crumpled over the desk, gritting her teeth so hard that her back molar cracked.  
It wasn't her, it wasn't fucking her.  
'Cain!' she wept, trying to pull back from that deranged edge she was hanging over.  
'Cain has them.'  
They had to be ok, they had to be, she couldn't loose John again, not like this.   
'Scrying!' Sam had flung open a drawer, found a crystal pendant. He looked around, Deans coat was on a chair, Temperance threw this too him and he bent over the map. It was a basic form of magic, you needed something belonging to the person you were trying to find for the scrying to work. It had never worked when she tried it, she watched him with narrowed eyes, she wanted to pray, she wanted to beg. She needed this to work.   
The crystal swung in a wide arc, her eyes following it, begging it to drop, to point Dean out. It hit the table top with a clack.   
'Glasgow?' Sam looked up, meeting her determined face.  
There was a weapons chest under the table, he kicked it open, took out a long barrelled pistol and loaded his belt up with knives.   
'We have work to do.' he said, gruffly.   
Temperance took him outside, dragging him by the hand. 'I'm not very good at this.' was the only explanation he had, before she grabbed onto him and whisked him away into nothingness.   
When Crowley and Castiel did this it was instantaneous, you barely noticed the change, with Temperance at the wheel it was more like a struggle for breath. Cresting a wave that was pushing you forward, fighting with a current. Sam fell to the ground as they landed, his knees buckling.  
'Where are we?' he looked around, hand flying to his gun. It was a deserted road, a few grey and red striped apartment blocks rose up before them. A playground sat empty near the road, it was morning, early morning, and the neighbourhood seemed asleep.   
'Duke St? I think, Glasgow town.' she spun around, looking, praying. 'Cas! Gus!'  
Sam pulled the crystal from his pocket, and his phone. 'I can try this again, maybe if we get a better map.'  
'Wait.' she put out a hand, closing her eyes. There was something, a pulse in the back of her head, something familiar, something she had always known.  
'I can feel him.'  
'Who, John?' he asked, hopefully.  
'No.' she swallowed, looking grim.   
'Cain.'

Dean passed out, it seemed like the thing to do in the face of unrelenting pain. He lost count of the blows, the cuts, the burns, he barely saw the serene face mocking him from above. John was fading too.   
He tried to keep still, but Cain must have sensed him waking up, hands pulled his head up by the hair, thick fingers tugged his eyelids and he tried to flinch away.  
'My daughter would never have passed out so fast.' he said, as if that was a thing to be proud of.  
Dean could barely organise his thoughts enough to make sense of that, shit, everything hurt.  
'You are a really shitty father, you know that.' John gasped, before a hacking cough interrupted him.   
Dean groaned, opened his eyes as much as he could and tried to get to his feet. John was slumped in his ward still, the skin that wasn't horrifically bloody was worryingly grey. He had last a lot of blood, Dean managed to think about that, John needed to get out of here, he wasn't gonna last much longer.   
'Why didn't you grab Tempy, if you want her 'ere so bad, you think she'll go off the wall and turn into you if she sees us dead, is that it? You think she would give in to that Mark? You're having a laugh mate, give over, she's stubborn as they come, no way she turns out like you.'  
'I need to kill her, but I cannot get to her. Abaddon brought me what she could get at short notice.' Cain pointed the knife between the men, to indicate she had brought them.  
John coughed hard for a solid two minutes, then he fell forward against the chains, gasping for breath.  
Cain sighed, he paced the room like a caged beast. 'Shall I call out to her, shall I bring her here?'  
John managed to raise his head. 'The more the merrier.'  
'Your words will not save you mage, your words cannot save you.' Cain disappeared up a short flight of stairs, leaving the men alone in the gloom.  
'Dean, y'alright?' John's body was wracked by another cough, its ended in a sputtering breath as he hacked up something thick and red from inside his lungs.  
'M'ok.' Dean mumbled, half awake. 'You?'  
'Not great, mate, not great.' it was more a whisper. 'Listen to me, you need to wake up, yeah?'  
Dean groaned, slowly peeling his eyelids back, it hurt, shit, everything hurt. Cain was batshit crazy, he had liked hurting them, like a kid with a new toy. He took a moment to clear his head   
'How long we been here?'  
'A few hours.' John's ragged whisper cut off by a groan as his weight shifted. His eyes were bright, too bright.  
'C'mere, gotta make me a promise on 'summit.'  
It chilled Dean to hear that, it sounded like giving up, it sounded like acceptance. No, they weren't gonna die here, no way.   
'Anything you want when we get out of this.' he said thickly, his tongue felt too large fro his mouth, he needed water.  
'No, please mate. Now. That Mark, you've got to ger-it off her.'  
'We will, you're gonna help us find out how.' Dean croaked. He coughed, dryly, his parched throat aching.  
'Look at me, man, we're getting out of this.' his voice cracking, he couldn't speak any louder.  
John's creased face was turned towards the floor, his legs in limp disarray as the chain held him up. 'Course we will, mate.' He wheezed, a pained smile dragging up the corners of his mouth.  
'Course we will. But I'd like that promise, if its all the same to you.'  
'I swear.'   
'Ta.' the mage mumbled.  
Dean struggled up, trying to plant his feet on the floor. No time for drying, no time for hanging around waiting for rescue. His dad had always taught him to get out of shit by himself, you couldn't rely on anyone else to do it.   
'Whats this chain look like?'  
John struggled to look up, slumped with a sigh and said. 'It's hanging off a butcher hook, you could get free with a jump, or a ladder.'  
Dean winced as his legs protested the weight of his body, his ribs were piercing into something, he could feel the pain fresh and clear. He counted to five, you got this, he said to himself. Its just a little movement, easy.   
With a tremendous effort he stood, raised his arms and tried to slide the chain link from the hook.   
'Careful!' John gasped.  
It was too high, Dean wanted to weep, one more breath, not too deep. He couldn't breath too deeply, things moved inside his chest that hadn't moved that way before. He figured that a few ribs were shot, maybe his collar bone too.   
He had been dragged to Hell by a hound, he had clawed out of his own grave, when he was a kid he had fought of a goddamn werewolf twice his size. He had fought monsters and Demons, he had rebuilt his goddamn car after a goddamn crash that nearly killed him.   
With a scream, a roar that broke out as red foam from his lips, he jumped forward. He knew he got free, because the ground rushed up to meet him and suddenly, it all went out.

The road turned abruptly into a country lane, ending in a weedy track, the surprisingly modern house blooming from a clearing between the trees. It would have been a charming bungalow, surrounded as it was by a small wood, the sun lighting up the lush green grass around it hinted at just how beautiful it could be.   
Temperance felt the pull of him within, like he was shouting to her, calling her forward. Sam was steady beside her, prepared for whatever happened. He was terribly capable, she knew, and she admired the steadiness, he anchored her. He had found a car, knew it wouldn't have an alarm, he had broken the window and hot-wired it, and she had driven them forward. Following the pull.   
'Ok?” he asked, waiting for her nod before planting a firm foot on the door and kicking it in.  
It clattered off the wall, revealing an empty hallway. A lamp rattled on a narrow end-table as the door bounced back. 

They went forward, cautiously, Sam scanning the shadows. A creak called their attention and they both spun. A basement door was standing slightly ajar, with a shudder Temperance wrenched this open, the short set of stairs was bare and recently disturbed dust swirled in the air.   
She went down the steps, knife out, she could smell death in the air, bloody and violent.  
If her dad was at the end of these steps she was going to have to kill him, if her mother was at the end of these steps she would kill her. The Mark sang on her arm at the thought.  
The first thing she saw was Dean, he was lying face down on the ground, blood around his mouth. Sam barreled past her to get to his brother, who groaned in his arms.  
'Sammy?' he croaked.  
'You're gonna be ok.' Sam's voice was certain, though he flinched as he looked up  
Temperance turned around then and saw John, hanging from his wrists, deathly pale where he wasn't bruised and bloody. It would haunt her, she knew that, it would never get out of her head. Her feet were stopped by something, a ward she realised as she looked down, that had been drawn in blood.  
'Can you?' she gestured to the markings, blocking her from crossing. She sounded panicked to her own ears, her voice high pitched. Sam scuffed the blood with his toe and she fell to her knees by John's side.  
He smiled weakly, his face swollen and bruised. 'Y'all right?'  
Alive, just about.  
'Constantine.'  
She wrenched apart the chains then laid a hand on his head, it was easy to find her power then. Her eyes glowed with the light and Grace of god, and a shadow of great wings crowded the space. He slumped against the force of her healing and when she helped him to his knees he was a new man.  
'Oh, thats the stuff. Feel right as rain!' he kissed her, pushed her hair back and kissed her again. Then, without preamble he pulled himself onto one knee and with a winning smirk, held out his gold signet ring.   
'Eh?'  
'Oh, fuck off.' she rolled her eyes, as he pushed the ring onto her index finger.  
'Such honeyed words!' he was on his feet, laughing, gathering her in his sticky arms.   
'You'll marry me, yeah?'  
'Go on, so.' she agreed.   
Sam had taken the chains of his brother, and was checking him over.   
'Tem, he's gonna need you.' he said.  
She laid her hands on Dean, summoning her remaining strength to fix him up. He wasn't quite as broken as John had been, though his ribs had shattered and shards of bone were very close to his heart.  
'Fuck.' she said, feeling it all as it mended under her touch.  
'Your dad got us.' Dean explained, finding his voice as his body repaired itself. Sam bent to help him up.   
'He gave us the Temperance work out, by the sounds of things.'  
She shuddered, looking at the chains, peering through the shadows to find a silver knife. He had never done anything this awful to her, never. He had hurt her, he had set monsters on her, but nothing like this, this was torture.   
'He's not here.' she flexed her Marked arm.  
'We'll find him.' Sam assured his brother. Temperance nodded and followed John up the rickety stairs. He bounded into the hall, cracking a smile at the new day. He turned his face to her, just for a moment, as he raised his foot to take a step.

The gun came out of the shadows and the bullet went through his head. A neat tiny round at his temple that bloomed into a red, wet, mess at the back of his skull . He was dead before he knew he was dead, he was dead before he hit the ground, he was dead before his blood painted the doorway.   
The smile still on his face.  
She froze, a perfect statue, watching Cain lower the weapon, look at her with his unfathomable eyes, and vanish.  
She didn't know how to breath, she didn't know. Time stalled, the oil dark blood began to drip, ponderously down the wainscoting. She didn't know how to breath.  
'Where did he go?' Sam had his own gun out, scanning the hall, he knocked her shoulder, checking this way and that. Aiming at blank shadows. He wasn't here, couldn't they tell.  
'Dean, is he ok?' Sam called.  
Dean shoved past her, he pulled at John's limp body. She sucked in a first deep breath, his body, just his body. That breath tasted like cordite and horror. She hadn't known that horror had its own taste.  
'John? Constantine? Hey?' Dean shouted.  
Sam had pulled out his phone he was calling someone, Crowley, or was it Castiel. She couldn't tell, sound was difficult, she couldn't hear over a roaring noise that was building somewhere, getting louder.  
'Stop'. They didn't hear her. Did she even speak, she didn't know anymore.  
'He aint answering! Cas!' Sam called out.  
'STOP!' was that her, she screamed it, too loud, that sound burst out of her mouth just as the roar inside her head reached a frenzied pitch.  
Lightning seemed to light up the hallway, the cold hard burst of blue light during a storm but as quickly as it had appeared it had vanished. Power was surging inside her, looking for an exit, her heart knocking with violent intent against her rib was forcing her lungs to drag in air and she couldn't fucking think straight.   
Do something, do something, you stupid bitch do something, don't just stand there, don't just panic like the token girl in the horror film. Do something!  
Temperance went to her knees, his blood soaking through her jeans. She put a hand on his chest, John's chest, the undamaged part of his face was a marble mask.   
She knew that she was crying, surely she must be crying, something running down her face, something wet and something that stung and her vision was faceted by a hundred thousand shards of colour.   
She felt pain, unknowable pain, so strong that it threatened to melt something inside her mind. She had to push it back, or it would consume her, like a big, bad wold. The colour was gone from John's skin, the smattering of freckles on his bony wrist had lost their golden lustre.   
Dean put a hand on her back, his hands were not as long as Sam's, his palm a little more narrow. She felt the weight of it, holding her creaking frame together.   
'He's gone.' Dean said.  
Already the body was cold, already the blood was congealing, she put a hand into John's pocket, pulled out his lighter and looked up at Sam. The capable brother, the steady one, the one that was less like her. He knew what she needed.  
He went to the garage and returned with canisters of gasoline, Dean found a sheet in the bedroom and he wrapped up the long figure of the man, making a moth eaten shroud.   
The greatest mage that had ever lived. The greatest mage that ever would live.   
John Constantine, who had lived fully, who had lived deliciously, who had fought against the darkness and always won. He was dead. He was dead. He was gone.

She put the flame to the fuel, the witch light sparking blue and white. It went up like magnesium and she couldn't follow him. She knelt there, the heat of her burning love on her skin and watched for the few moments it took before he was ash, before that ash was nothing.  
He was dead.  
When she did finally cry out it shattered the day, it was a sound that could hurry the night. She screamed and wept and roared and she couldn't stop. Dean put his hands over his ears, weeping into the knees of his jeans and his brother, crying openly now, tried the phone again.   
She projected her pain and it buffeting the two men like a fierce wind. A mantra ringing in their ears.   
'He is dead, he is dead.'.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Hey baby.' her mother was sitting at a blonde oak desk, it was splattered with blood and gore. Behind her a torture rack was being hosed down, bloody froth foamed across the flagstones and puddled at Temperance's feet.  
> 'Mam.' she said, side stepping the mess.....
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

Dusk was closing in around them, the fire had died out and it was getting dark. Someone pulled her to her feet, someone was gently wiping blood off her hands. Sam, it was Sam and Dean was standing by the stolen car talking to.  
'Gus!'  
He looked up.  
'Where were you!' she rounded on him, slamming her fists into his shoulders.   
'I needed you! He needed you!'  
'Darling, please. I'm so sorry.' Crowley tried to gather her in his arms but she fought free. Snarling viciously.  
'How are you here? How! Tell me!' he roared at him.   
He glanced down at her necklace, pointed to it. 'You never turn your phone on for me to track.'   
She slumped, the fight knocked out of her, he caught her as she folded to the ground.  
'Constantine.'   
'I know, darling, I know.'  
He must have brought them home, because she was sitting in the kitchen and someone was making her drink some water.  
Temperance drifted to her room like a woman half dead, it smelled like him. She stood by the door, not able to reconcile herself with the unalterable fact, John Constantine was dead. Her fingers coiled around the bedsheets, they were cum stained from good sex they had had this morning, or was it yesterday morning, she wasn't sure how much time had passed. She tore them off and flung them aside, the pillow following. She drove her fist into the mattress, she stomped down on the brackets and slats.  
He was dead, it was her fault, he was dead, it was her fault.  
When the sound of breaking furniture subsided she fell down on the floor, she could feel too much and not enough and it was awful. Crowley came to her, stepping over the wreckage to pull her into his arms.   
'I've never liked exorcists, but he was something else.'  
'I cant breathe' she gasped, shaking her head. Everything was wrong, everything hurt, everything.  
'Shh' he rocked her gently. It must look strange, the King of Hell in his fine suit on the floor with a bloodied punk.  
'Shh, its alright. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.'  
'Gus!' a strangled sob, she held him with a force that would have crippled a human man, the heat of the Mark threatened to burn through her clothes, she could feel it throbbing out from under her skin.   
Crowley kissed the top of her head, making soothing sounds until she relaxed. She didn't sleep, she didn't need too, but nor did he, and he held her until night fall and on till morning. 

The week that followed was surreal, she fell ever deeper into a dark pit inside her mind. It was hard to crawl even a little of the way out of it. She was exhausted, too tired to eat or sleep or care very much about anything. Every minute seemed hard won and every day was a battle to live. She felt fragile, she felt ill-defined, she wasn't sure where she began or ended or even if she remembered beginning or ended before all this.   
Crowley took up residence with them, though he disappeared at odd times to scope out Hell and the ever growing control of Abaddon over the realm.  
'Tem?' Sam was sifting through books in the library.  
'Yeah, need help?'  
'Do you wanna talk, about John?'  
'Fuck no.'   
He put down a heavy looking folio and sighed. 'You're way too like Dean, you know that.'  
'I think I take offence to that.' she flipped open a small Zoroastrian prayer book and closed it without interest.  
'You know how I got back into hunting?' he asked, making her look at him with a sharp gesture from his hand atop the folio.   
'You told me that your girlfriend was murdered, by a Demon. That you were kinda tricked back into this '  
'Yeah, I was. I didn't tell you that I saw it happen. I dreamed of it before it happened, then exactly like in my nightmares, she was pinned to the ceiling, bleeding and set on fire.' His face was incredibly hard to make sense of, she wasn't sure what that face meant.  
She didn't know what he wanted, what he needed, she put her hand over his on the folio. 'I'm sorry.'  
'No, Tem, stop.' he shrugged off her touch and shook his head.  
'Sorry.'  
'Stop, saying sorry. Tem, I'm trying to tell you that I know what you're going through. Ok, so, don't shut yourself off, please. I can help you, I can talk to you.'  
'Thanks.' that seemed like a good thing to say. 'Thank you, but I don't want to talk about anything.'  
'Tem, come on, you saw John get shot. Your dad shot him.'  
The Mark flared to life, rising on her skin as if it had been summoned. She slapped her hand over it, spitting between clenched teeth and breathing hard through her nose. It called out, but it didn't hurt her, it was asking for blood and she had already agreed to it. She had to pull back, no, reign it in, she wasn't Cain. She wasn't going to give in. No.  
Sam had backed off to the end of the table, she found herself following his movements, with her eyes. Stalking him from her perch on the desk.   
'I don't want to talk about anything.' she restated, slipping away and leaving him before she tore out his throat.

Dean didn't know what to make of it when Sam told him. He chalked it up to her being sad, grieving, and the Mark taking advantage of that.   
'Her eyes went black, shit, Dean, the way she looked at me.' Sam shuddered.  
'It wasn't her.' Dean said. It was the Mark, it had to be the Mark.  
Sam was platting up dinner, he had made himself a cob salad and thankfully had grilled dean a burger instead. The brothers were eating quietly when Crowley popped up, looking less than pristine.  
'Cain had killed a few of my more die-hard supporters for Abaddon, so, alas, I'm out of the running downstairs.' Crowley shook his head, sitting down.  
'I'll spare you the details.' he added.  
'So, she's in control, she's got power behind her now?' Dean put down his beer, lifting his head up slightly from the table.   
He hadn't been sleeping properly since it happened, he was used to death, to violence and monsters, but being taken from his home had thrown him. Watching John get tortured almost to death only to have him die, fuck, it was awful. He saw it all the time, it was always there waiting behind his eyelids.  
'Can we kill the bitch yet?' Crowley grumbled.  
'Tem's not doing good. You know that.' Dean muttered.  
'Yes, I do. My shoulder is the waterlogged one, in that regard.' he sniffed, pointedly.  
Dean scowled at the Demon , he was all to aware that Crowley had been hanging around, trying to get Temperance to stay human. When he left was when she tended to slide into mild insanity.  
'She wont back out now, you know that.' Crowley chided, eying the remains of Dean's dinner with apparent distaste.   
'I can't ask her to kill her mother, not now. Jesus, Crowley. It will destroy her! I don't know how we can help her. This, John's death, its fucked her up.' he rubbed his eyes, scrubbed a hand through his hair.   
'We just keep her going, and little by little, day by day, the pain gets less. Until one day you can live with it, you wake up at the pain doesn't define you anymore.' Sam said, softly. Dean was suddenly reminded of Sam's girlfriend, burning on his apartment ceiling, of the screams that ripped his brother apart.   
'We don't have the luxury of time here, Hunter. Abaddon is consolidating her power, she's ready to make her move. She got in here once, she can do it again.' Crowley spat.  
'Don't remind me.' Dean muttered. 

He stood on leaden feet and walked to Temperance's room, she wasn't in it, nor was she in the music room. He found her, after a time, in the garage. Her head and shoulders under the car bonnet. The Mitsubishi was totalled, no way around it. It had taken the brunt of the explosion, the Impala just need new headlights and a drivers window.  
'Hey.'   
She looked up, nodded to him 'Hi.'  
'Want some coffee? We gotta talk about, uh, stuff.'  
She looked at him blankly, pulling off plastic gloves that were streaked with black grease. She moved on auto, moving like something was controlling her.   
'Stuff?' her voice small and bored. At least she was talking, he thought, that was better than nothing.   
'Abaddon.' he couldn't bare to see her face when he spoke the name, he had to force himself to look. Her lips twitched, her hands clenched, but she didn't say anything, just followed him to the kitchen and sat beside Crowley.  
'I know its not a good time, my love.' he kissed her hand, putting on his kindest voice. Sleazy bastard, Dean grumbled to himself, acting like butter wouldn't melt.  
'Your mother is getting too powerful, we are running out of time to stop her.'  
'Yeah.' she agreed, voice flat, eyes far away. She was somewhere inside herself, somewhere broken and cut off.  
Dean felt a pang in his gut that had nothing to do with Abaddon. Temperance was falling apart in front of him, he couldn't do anything. He couldn't help. She walked around like a zombie, lights were on but no one was home. Sometimes he'd find her just sitting somewhere, staring off into nothing.   
'Tem.' She dragged her heavy eyes to him. He had to say something, he had to remind her she was alive. She was his friend, she needed him.  
'He spent all the time your dad was hurting him trying to save me. He tried to trick him, manipulate him so that he couldn't hurt me and wouldn't be able to hurt you when you showed up. 'Cause he knew you were gonna show up. He would have done anything for you and he loved you and I am so fucking sorry that he's dead.'   
Why, he thought, hadn't he said anything before now. Why hadn't they talked about it, why did it hang over them like a knife, a guillotine ready to come down.  
She took a shaky breath, her lips opening wide to do it. Every action stretched out to keep her from crying. 'Yeah?'  
'Yes.'  
He never wanted to see her cry again, seeing her cry had been terrible. He had sworn to kill Cain, he would do that, he would do that and he wasn't gonna tell her about it.  
She nodded, slowly, two fat tears spilled out from her eyes, then something about her seemed to harden, to grow solid and real. She dashed the tears from her face, set her mouth and said 'What's the plan?'  
'It would be easier to fight her out of Hell, on Earth. We just need a way to get her here.' Sam spoke up, and she looked at him, seeing him.   
'Crowley would make nice bait.' Dean pointed out, making the Demon scoff.  
'Well so would you! You bound her Earth-side, she's not forgotten that.'  
'We can get to that later, lets say we do bait her, how does it work? Whats the lure? She's gonna see right through anything we set up.' Sam asked, pulling a small notebook out of his pocket.  
Dean hesitated to voice his thought, he didn't like it. 'What if it wasn't bait, what if we let one of us get captured?'  
'Theres no chance she'd keep you alive all that long.' Temperance spoke, her voice almost normal, almost musical, almost the voice Dean knew.  
'You got an idea?'   
'No! You're not going to her!' Crowley, shrewd as always had seen through her. He smacked his hand down on the table, causing the crockery to rattle.   
'Hell no!' Dean agreed.   
'So you can put yourself in the line of fire, but I can't?'  
'Yes, exactly!' Crowley almost shouted. Then he seemed to remember himself, and made a show of relaxing, of acting calm.  
'Perhaps you have forgotten but you have the Mark now, we need you to kill her, not die yourself!'  
Dean frowned, a little surprised that Crowley had put it that way, but the Demon was practical if nothing else. 'He's right, Tem.'  
Sam toyed with his cold food for a moment before saying. 'I think we all need to go to her, we're gonna have to fight on her turf.'  
'I would prefer to be left out of the thrilling heroics. This is my last good suit. She had her minions eat my tailor.' Crowley sat, stiffly.  
'Oh, sorry babe.' Temperance reached out and patted his fist. Dean was used to their interactions by now, he knew she was being sarcastic. Sarcastic was good, sarcastic was Temperance.  
Rolling his eyes at this, he turned his shoulder on Crowley. Typical the bastard would back out of a fight. 'So its us three.'  
'Its Temperance and two liabilities.' Crowley sneered.   
'Gus' she warned, in a low voice. Crowley cleared his throat, soothing his tie and holding up in hands in defeat.  
'You have a point.' Sam admitted, gritting his teeth. He was puzzling the problem through, Dean could see the his mind at work.  
'We're gonna make this right. We're gonna fix this.' Dean said, forcefully, locking eyes with his brother.  
Temperance, he noticed, had her upside-down smile on. The sneer that dragged up one eyebrow, but she didn't speak and when he looked at her she dropped her head and nodded.  
Unasked, she reached out a finger, pulled Dean's plate towards her and picked up his burger. She bit in to it, swallowed. 'How much fucking ketchup do you need.'  
'It tasted bad!' he had to resist the urge to jump for joy.   
'Well, its soy.' she said, biting down again.  
Dean spun around to face Sam, who managed to smile around his coffee cup. 

Sam came out of his room, didn't bother to knock and barrelled into Temperance as she was changing.  
'Hey!' she covered her chest with an arm.  
'Did you take it?' he demanded.   
'Take what? Your last fucking nerve, or you manners?' She hurried the tank top over her head and pulled on a shirt.  
'The Blade! Its gone!'  
Her mouth dropped open. 'Shit.' she whispered.  
'Crowley!' Sam spat, turning on heel and hurrying to find his brother.   
'I fucking knew it! We never should have trusted that guy!' Dean was beside himself with fury, his lips thin with anger as he chewed his tongue to stop himself screaming.   
'Bastard!'  
'Why would he take it?'Temperance asked, brow furrowed. 'What does he gain? Its just a knife to him.'  
'Yeah but in Cain's hands its power! Maybe he's cut a deal with your dad.' Sam's rarely flaring temper bubbling up to the surface. His brown eyes were dark and shaded beneath his frown as she glowered at her.  
'He's gonna sell us out.' Dean grunted.  
She took a breath, thought long and hard about it. Yes, Crowley would sell anyone it if got him something he wanted, he was a master of the double cross, and he could be ruthless, but this wasn't his style.   
He was smart, more than smart enough to know Cain would take the Blade and kill him, and he wouldn't do it to her. She shook her head, puzzled 'No, he wouldn't.'  
'Are you sure?' Dean scowled.  
'Yes, about this, I'm very fucking sure. There is another explanation.'  
'Indeed there is.' Castiel appeared, startling them.   
She looked away from him, from the trench-coat, there was no smell of magic and silk-cuts, no missing button, no frayed cuffs. It shouldn't remind her of him, but it did, it always would.   
'What happened, Cas?' Dean put out a hand and patted the Angels arm in greeting.   
'The Angels who had been cast out in Michaels coup had regrouped and forced him from the Throne, for now, the Gates of Heaven are open again.'  
Castiel went over to Temperance, bent awkwardly around her in a strange, uncomfortable hug. It was difficult to tell who disliked it more. 'I am sorry for your loss, Sister.'  
'Thanks' She took a step back when he finally released her, shoulders tensed against any further touching he might initiate.   
She wondered when Heaven had un-fucked itself, had it happened when she was in a little black cloud of grief. A flash of discomfort roiled her belly, she had said she would help with that, and she hadn't.  
Castiel nodded, primly then said. 'I came to tell you that Crowley did not set out to harm you.'  
'Did not set out?' Dean narrowed his eyes.  
'What does that mean?' Sam's fingers flexed, his shoulders rising up against the next words, as if they might hurt.  
'He took the Blade and brought it to me, in an attempt to make a forgery to lure Abaddon from her Hell. It could not be done, not to any standard that would survive her scrutiny. We devised a plan which I am sure you will agree to.'  
'Sure?' Sam said, looking a question at his brother, who shrugged and picked up a packet of spicy beef jerky from the table.  
'Ok, I'm listening.' he said.  
Castiel seemed pleased, he puffed out his chest and put his hands behind his back. 'Crowley went to Hell to give Abaddon the Blade, knowing that she would kill him and then call Temperance to her side, in an attempt to make her a Knight. He said he would put this idea into her head before he died. No doubt a great death that would soothe his soul were it not damed for all eternity.'  
Temperance put a hand to her emerald and made a little distressed sound in her throat. 'He what?” she asked, Sam and Dean appeared to dumbstruck to speak.  
'You see the sense of it? Its brilliant in its simplicity. Abaddon would give you the knife, in her presence and then you can kill her.'  
'Castiel, did being human addle your fucking mind?' Anger had risen like a viper in her gut.  
'No.' he frowned. 'You don't like the plan?'  
'Fuck no!'  
At this moment Temperance's phone rang, Baby Got Back echoing around them. The caller ID said that it was Crowley. She had him in her phone as 'The King', she hadn't picked it, he had preprogrammed it for her.   
'Yeah?' a pause. 'Ok, right. Yes' and she dropped the device on the table.   
'She's got Gus.' she said, though it didn't need to be said.   
Dean dropped his jerky and hurried to his nearest weapon supply, strapping knives and guns to his body without a word.  
'OK.' Sam nervously ran his hands through his hair.  
'Show time.' Dean said.  
'No.' Temperance cut him off, looking from brother to brother.   
She could see Dean ready an argument, she could see Sam reaching for his knife. This was going to be a bloodbath.  
'She has all the pieces. It wont work if we all go in together.'  
'Christ-sake! What do we do then, huh?' Dean sat down heavily, squeezing his eyes shut.  
'I'll go talk to her. She asked me to come see her. She's expecting me'  
'What? No! Tem she will kill you!'  
'No. Not yet, not right away.' Temperance pulled off John's ring and slipped the pendant off from around her neck, she placed these on the table, coiling the thin gold chain into a loop.  
Stooping quickly she kissed Deans cheek and reached across the table to squeeze Sam's big hand, then, with a breath, before they could argue, she vanished.

Hell was quiet, she appeared near a crumbling dungeon and picked a direction at random. The fact that she could get in at all was a good sign, or a very bad one, depending on how you looked at it.  
Confident that something would pick her up soon she wandered down the rough hewn corridors. She didn't have to wait long, a deep growl alerted her to the presence of the hounds. Three tall creatures rounded the nearest corner and, with a suicidal calm, she reached out a hand for them to sniff.   
'Hello.Take me to the Queen will you?' she scratched one behind its scaly ears.  
A bark, a ragged echoing bark. She took that to mean 'Follow me, nice lady.' but probably it meant something more sinister. She could never tell with hell-hounds, sometimes they were like dogs, sometimes they were more like monsters.   
Their massive paws were tipped with razor sharp claws, they sparked like flints on the flagstones as they ambled through Hell. At least Temperance could see them, humans couldn't, they wouldn't have much of an advantage on her in that regard. At the thought of violence the Mark flared, an itch burst out, she wanted the fight them. She wanted to fucking eat them.  
Doors reared up before her and the hounds stopped, letting her move forward.  
'Hey baby.' her mother was sitting at a blonde oak desk, it was splattered with blood and gore. Behind her a torture rack was being hosed down, bloody froth foamed across the flagstones and puddled at Temperance's feet.  
'Mam.' she said, side stepping the mess.  
'Come to get your friend?'   
'Yes please.' straight forward, honest, the best possible course of action right now.  
'I wont hand him over baby, you know that.'   
'I do.' she knelt down at her mothers feet, hands in her lap. She knew what her mother wanted, she wanted power, but she needed allies.  
'So, what next?'

Abaddon didn't answer at first, she reached forward, curiously, and her long nails gently stroked down Temperance cheek. 'I want a Knight, but I cant trust you to do as I tell you.'  
'Kill me and I'll turn into a Demon, might be more pliable then.' Temperance swallowed her fear. She could do this, it would be easy. She was half Demon, she could lie, she could lie well enough that even she would believe herself. She made herself sit confidently, made herself smile  
'You want to die, little one? You can't be a Knight unless you do.' Abaddon forced her head back, gripping her by the chin to look long and hard into her eyes.  
'Living was hardly ever my thing.' Temperance managed to sound a bit bored, managed not to flinch as Abaddon clicked her fingers, pulling them into a little dressing room.   
'After all those hours in labour, honey, didn't your daddy teach you that life is precious.'  
Temperance looked around the room, her mother had a unique eye for interior decorating, if you liked your rooms sprinkled with insanity, Abaddon was your girl. It was garishly decorated, Marie-Antionette meets Priscilla, queen of the desert.  
'He taught me how to find the heart.' she replied, watching, on guard.   
Abaddon sat on a fluffy ottoman, regarding her child from a distance. Temperance waited her out, she didn't know what her mother would do. She wasn't entirely sure that she would be alive for her next heartbeat. Her mother wasn't a planner, strange she had managed to take over Hell being as disorganised as she was.  
'That hair wont do.' Abaddon sighed, startling Temperance to put a hand to her miraculously intact head. Abaddon turned to root through a large armoire.   
'Put that on.' a black silk dress puddled on the floor. Temperance slid out of her clothes without embarrassment and dressed in the gown.   
Her mother took her and sat her before a carved, gilt covered, mirror. She picked up a brush and a little spray bottle of something musky smelling and began to brush and polish Temperance's long, dark hair. She worked in silence, Temperance barely dared to breathe.  
Abaddon, the Queen of Hell, her mother, was brushing her hair, like she used to do when Temperance was a little girl. She haLf expected her to start telling her a story, instructing her on the finer points of torture.  
'I missed you.'  
'Would you believe me if I said I missed you too?' she met her mothers eyes in the mirror.   
'No.' she winked.  
'I am sorry about banishing you.' That wasn't a lie, not really, she had felt bad about it.  
'Oh! Water under the bridge, baby girl.'  
'Do you want me here?'  
'Yes, I need a Knight. I want it to be you.'  
'I don't want you to hurt my friends.'  
'The Winchesters?' her nails contracted around Temperance's hair, tugging it harshly and making her wince.  
'Yes. I don't care who rules Hell, I don't care what Demon's get up to, but don't hurt them. Please, they took care of me, they helped me.'  
Abaddon finished with her hair, putting down the gold backed brush and arranging it over Temperance's shoulders.   
'I wont hurt them, but you might, when you're a Knight.' she said, sweetly, batting her lashes.  
Temperance frowned at her, tapping her fingers on the dressing table, playing for time and hoping that inspiration would hit.  
'Is, Crowley, here?'   
'Yes, he came to visit, gave me a present and everything, like a good courtier should.'  
'Temperance tried to think of something, something that didn't end in one or both of them dead. She needed the Blade. She needed to kill her mother.  
Abaddon was sneering now, all her former softness gone. 'You wanna know what he gave me?'  
'The First Blade.' she muttered, dropping her eyes to the mirror.   
Abaddon piled Temperance's hair up, pinning it into an elaborate bun on the back of her head. She smoothed the black silk down her back, looking at her from every angel. Temperance knew there was more to this than aesthetics, she was looking at her, judging how she would move, how she would fight.  
'Mam, I am full on not going to kill him.'  
'Oh hush, I don't want you to kill him, not right away. I want to pull out his insides and make him squirm.' she unearthed a glittering diamond tiara out of a pile of jewellery on the floor and held it aloft for Temperance's inspection.   
'Its Fabrege, belong to Empress Josephine, do you like it?'  
'Mmm, very sparkly.' Tem arched an eyebrow, turning to face her.   
'You got John killed.' not a question, but she wanted an answer.  
'I did. He was bad for you.' she looped her arm around her daughter and led her through the door.   
'You'll get over it once your dead too.'

Temperance mulled over that, she wasn't dead now, but it seemed she wouldn't be alive all that much longer. Unless her mother planned to torture her, mind, body and whatever else there was, until she turned.   
She reasoned, stepping lighting on the flagstones, that she could probably survive that long enough. What was pain, really, it was nothing, she had lived through plenty of it. Cain had taught her through it.  
The Throne room was brightly lit, for once, she saw Crowley by the ugly stone seat, whole and more or less unruffled. There was something sour in his gaze as he took her in. Looking like he had been forced to swallow bile he nodded and turned his face away. His hands were manacled, she noted the lock, the ward, the metal and paused by his side as her mother set her on the stone dais. He stared resolutely at the floor.  
'Look, Crowley, my little girl is here to chit chat. She's all ready to throw away her life for you.' Abaddon's black eyes rolled to her daughter.  
'You better persuade her not to.' she added in a growl.  
'Temperance, please kill this bitch and get me out of here.' he said after a moment. Abaddon casually backhanded him.  
'Mother!'  
'Listen up, dear baby girl. You're the Mark Bearer, your the new Knight of Hell. In waiting. I fucking own you so do your fucking job and start hurting him before I have to persuade you too.'   
'Can't be alive and be a Knight, remember?.' she said, thinking fast, thinking desperately. She saw Crowley shoot her a bewildered look.  
Her mother moved fast, much faster than Temperance anticipated. Something sharp and horrible punched through her stomach, pain boiled under her skin, but not just pain, power.  
She fell back, gracelessly, Abaddon loomed up over her, with a flick of her thin wrist she pulled the Blade out of her daughters gut and slapped it, bloody and warm, into her fist.  
Temperance could barely processed that her fingers curled around the Blade, the ancient handle was hard and unyielding, it felt right. The Mark was burning again, but it was a song, it was perfect, it was violent and she craved it.  
'That little toy should help you, can you feel it, baby?' Abaddon asked, resuming her seat on the Throne.  
The power throbbed through her, it didn't flow, it forced its way down Temperance's veins, it pulsed under her bones and she could feel it in every atom of her body. The wound in her stomach healed from the burning force of that ancient magic. This exactly what she wanted, what she needed.  
'Woah.' she blew out a breath, the blade had been fashioned from the jaw of a donkey and sharpened on a rock. The eons had almost fossilised it, it was harder than bone should be, harder than steel. The leather grip was worn under her palm, made supple by her father in the millennia he had spent spilling blood.   
It was hers, she felt it, somewhere in a place she didn't know existed inside her. She felt the truth of it, it felt right, it felt good. It felt better than fucking good and somehow already familiar in her hand.  
Her mother said to hurt and she wanted to, fuck, she wanted to kill and maim, she wanted someone to start screaming. Pain made sound, music to her ears, delight, dark and delicious. She felt herself changing, turning, she felt the Demon side of her essence pressing forward, she was in Hell, Demon's did well down here. Her eyes changed, she could see so much better this way, she could see each vein and capillary in Crowley's vessel as it lived around him, she could see him beneath it. Tumultuous red smoke, oil and sin.   
'Temperance?'  
His voice, how well did she know that voice, in fear and in joy, it was sad now. Almost accepting. She forced herself to take a breath, closing her eyes, counting slowly to five. When she opened them her mother was watching her, closely.  
'So, wont you kill him?' Honey in her voice, that never boded well.   
'Mam.' she tried to ignore the pull of the Mark. The Queen had asked her to do something, she had to, she must do it. No. She wasn't dead, not yet, she was still fucking alive and her mother had said it, can't be a Knight when you're alive.  
'You want me gone? Want my throne?' Abaddon asked, serenely.  
'I don't want to kill you.' With great difficulty Temperance looked away from the bone Blade and turned slowly to face her mother, the Queen of Hell, but she was not her Queen.  
'But I will.' Temperance finished.   
The Queen wrapped the chain that pegged Crowley to her throne, around her fist, pulling him towards her. 'He's a fucking salesman' She spat.   
'He's my fucking salesman.'  
'He's using you, you're just too dense to see it, you stick around and he feels all important. You flatter his little ego.'Her eyes flashed, a ruddy gleam to their beautiful dark depths and she spat out her words form behind clenched teeth.  
'Don't fucking start on that.' Temperance answered, the wound in her gut had closed over, but she knew she was weaker then she had been, the Blade had done damage to her that wasn't physical.  
'Touch a nerve?' Abaddon smiled, glittering teeth, red lips, deadly eyes.  
'Let him go.' she spoke with command, like Cain had taught her. Her mother smirked and dragged a nail down Crowley's face.  
'Make me.'  
It was a curious moment to live through. Time didn't slow, but suddenly everything had a perfect clarity, a battle zen. Temperance tested the weight of the Blade in her hands, relishing the power. The Mark burning brightly on her arm, it was burning brightly throughout her body. It had woven itself into her mind. She had to kill her mother.  
'If you insist.'

Abaddon had power, hard won with age. She was ruthless, strong and pitilessly capable, she faced her daughter with her head held high. Temperance was powerful too, in her own way, and she was forged beneath the less than gentle hand of Cain.   
She knew, had always known, that he had raised her to kill him. Compared to Cain's iron strength, Abaddon was paper in the wind. She waited for her mother to make the first move, testing her style. She lunged.  
Temperance dodged her fist, dodged the tendrils of power that sought to catch her.  
They fought quickly, breaking apart to regroup in the blink of an eye. Abaddon snarled and raised a clenched fist, power surged around her and slammed her daughter into the stone wall. It would have knocked the breath out of anyone else, not so for Temperance. Breathing was a waste, she was busy harnessing everything she had ever learned, throwing magic, Demonic, Angelic and the cursed power of the Mark into every inch of her skin, flesh and bones. She was letting it all out.  
She struggled against the unseen bonds, slashing free with the knife and tumbling forward. She caught her mother off guard, just for an instant, the Blade found her skin and wrenched a ripping wound through her chest.  
'Bitch!' Her mother shrieked, her clawed hands raking over Temperance's face, gouging a deep red line over her jaw. With a grace born of instinct, helped by years of instructions and drills by Cain, Temperance spun the Blade into her back hand and stabbed up. She had been raised to kill Demons, this was what she was.  
The force of it lifted Abaddon up into the air and with a roar the daughter threw her mothers broken body down. A beat, a breath, Abaddon screamed as her body began to fall apart around her, light sparked in her eyes and with a violent shudder she died at her daughters feet. Blood, the Mark rejoiced, finally, blood, fresh, hot, living blood. Temperance was pummelling the body into the flags, flesh splattered, bone broke, she couldn't make her any more dead but she wanted to, she needed to.

'Temperance?' She was breathing heavily through clenched teeth, her nostrils flared as she rounded on the man.   
'Woah! Easy!' Crowley raised his hands. She met his gaze, wretched delight rising in her throat to see him flinch in fear. Then, instantly, the knife slid form her hands and she tottered back. Crowley.  
'Sorry.' She shuddered, looking down the body, at the destruction. There was a tiny breath, like a sob.   
'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I didn't.' words fled, sense fled. There was so much blood on the ground.  
Crowley stood, releasing his bindings and carefully picking his way across the gore.  
'She's dead.' Temperance's voice was hollow.  
'Darling?'  
She looked up at her friend. He was approaching her, cautiously, she had frightened him. 'Are you alright?'  
'I'm fine.' he threw his shoulders back, ran a loving hand over the Throne.  
She shrugged, a little spasm crossing her mouth. 'So, thats that.' she said, wincing at the forced humour.  
'Yes.' Crowley agreed.   
Temperance took one more look at the body, the remains of the body.   
'Thank you.' Crowley said, dropping a hand to her arm and pulling her away from the sight.  
'Did she hurt you?'  
'No.' he was looking at her closely, tracing the shape of her face with his eyes. His fingers tightened on her shoulders and she looked a question at him.  
'You look nice in a crown.' he said, smirking.  
She pulled off the tiara and dropped it on the ground, a kick sent it skittering away.   
'The Queen is dead.' she muttered, seeing the blood on her hands in stark clarity.  
'Now, if you will excuse me, I've a throne to reclaim.' he blew her a kiss and clicked his fingers without another word he vanished into thin air.  
She hurried to earth, a little flash of soft light as she unpacked her wings for the journey. It didn't even hurt this time, or if it did the pain didn't register against what she was already feeling.   
She opened her eyes in the Bunker, the brothers were standing a meter apart on either side of the map desk.   
'It's done.' she said. The weight of the words were heavy on her mouth.  
Torn between shock and delight the Winchesters almost laughed, tension dropping from their shoulders.  
'Tem?' Sam asked, moving towards her, but she pulled away, shaking her head. She put the Blade down on the table, unable to look at it.   
'I'm going to shower.' she was rubbing the Mark on her arm, absently. It was there, she could feel it there without seeing it, and she didn't want it.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Blade skittered across the boards, landing between them.   
> He raised a hand, calling it, while she scrambled forward, hurrying to her feet, diving. It was too late, it crossed the ward, scoring a line through the magic. He had the Blade, he was free. She stopped short, panic building under her tongue. She was going to die here, in fucking America. ...
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

Dean became preoccupied with Cain, he trained Temperance, showing her every move he knew for knife fighting, boxing, bar brawling, anything he could think of. She was already a brawler, she didn't particularly need the input, but she thought refusing might make him a little crazy. He wanted to help, and part of her kew, he needed to see how she fought, just in case he had to take her down.   
She appreciated the effort, but it was exhausting. Months of sparring made the Mark growl, craving more, craving split skin and rending flesh. She had already broken the a chunk of tiles off the wall in the spare room they used to train, it was better than tearing into Dean, but his eyes had widened and his brows had risen and she hated the look on his face when she came back to herself from it.  
'I'm fine.' she gulped.  
'You're not fine.' was his even reply.  
She stopped training with him, shaking her head whenever he broached the topic. It had been stupid to agree to, it had been dangerous. She was dangerous.  
One day he took his personal weapon stash to the war room, to clean them out, and he held out an old fashioned six shooter gun for Temperance's inspection. It was long barrelled, ornate, dull with age in his hand.  
'Playing cowboy?' she asked.  
'Its an old Hunter's weapon.We killed a Prince of Hell with it.' He explained.  
She raised a brow at that, a few of those Demons had gone missing over the years, she had assumed they were lying low. Not much could kill them, the First Blade could, surely god could, but beyond that she had thought them invincible.  
'How does it work?'  
'Its inscribed with spell work, but we need to get bullets for it. Sam has an idea to try and make more.'  
Something tickled in the back of her head, some story, a legend.   
'Wait, this is the Colt?' she said, shocked to find it was real. She wondered why she hadn't know about it before, and it occurred to her, Sam probably had wanted to keep it a secret, because it might be able to kill her.  
'It can kill Demons, it could kill the devil himself, maybe.' Dean laid the gun down reverently.   
'Someone call?” Crowley set down a bottle of wine. Scowling, Dean snatched up the gun before the Demon could touch it.  
'I told you before, Crowley, you aint welcome here!'  
'Hush, I'm here to visit my dear friends who very kindly deposed of my immortal enemy and helped me take back my throne in Hell. Thank you so very much Lancelot for coming to my rescue.' she shot Dean a vindictive little smile, and Temperance kicked his shin.  
Dean strode out of the room, gun in hand, muttering darkly. 'I aint your friend.'  
'Hows Hell?' she reached for the bottle, glancing at the Italian label.  
'I know that you're tasteless and like you wines new world, darling, but this is a special vintage, see?' he tapped the date.  
'My birth year.' she said, feeling older than the wine.  
'And region.' he nodded.  
A Primitivo from Puglia, she frowned a little, she didn't remember telling him where she was born. He pulled the cork, inhaling the scent and setting the bottle down.   
'Been gently turning it upright for the past two days, not a bit of silt, should be divine. Much like yourself.'  
'Why are you so happy?' she asked, flicking her nail against the fine crystal he had brought. He was brimming with joy, and it was creepy.   
'Surely you should be over worked and annoyed at something?'  
'Oh I am! However, its not everyday you can say that you own Hell, fair and square.'  
'Fair?'  
'Fair enough.' he clarified, smirking once more.  
'Your mother left the place in a frightful mess. Its taken ages to set right. I've got all her friends in the ground, that is to say very dead, and all mine raised up high.'  
'You're scarier than she was. Our more efficient at it, anyway.'  
'Yes. I suppose so. Come with me.' he leaned in, dropping his voice to a whisper.  
'To Hell?'  
'Yes, we can set up something new. Come on, you'll love it.'  
'No thanks, I've shit to do. Hunting down my dad, for example.'  
'Sounds dreadfully fun.' he poured two glasses and let her lead him to her room. He took the chair, she sat on the bed.   
'I was thinking though, once this is done. I might move back to Amsterdam.' she glanced down at her arm and his eyes were drawn to her sleeve. Once she got rid of the Mark, once she didn't want to murder people for breathing too loudly.  
'Really? Leave all this behind?' he leaned forward, a glint in his eye.  
'Its not that I don't like them, Dean and Sam. I'm just not doing well here. Theres too much death, too many memories and it just never seems to stop. I don't want to live like this.' she had thought long and hard about it, Hunting would burn her out, eventually.   
She had friends in Amsterdam, one at least, Mark, who she used to play in a band with. For all he knew she was human.  
Crowley raised his glass at her, eyes smoldering with delight. 'I'll find you a house.'  
'You already gave me one.' she tasted the wine, it was full bodied, dark and sweet as cherries and heady. The type of wine that would stain your lips black after a while, the type of wine that made you do silly things. The type of wine that made regrets.   
'You never use it.' he pointed out, savouring his mouthful before continuing.   
'Do let me help you, darling, you never make good decisions.'  
She snorted, hating to agree and drained her wine, it was very nice. 'I made friends with you didn't I?'  
'Point of fact.' he said, reaching to refill her glass. 

Some mornings, if she had slept, she woke up with a sense of foreboding. Today would be the day her dad would come for her, but each day passed without his making an appearance. She was on edge, constantly, she was jittery, prone to outbursts and completely unable to let go of the Blade.   
She tried to hide this from the brothers. Tried desperately to pretend she didn't need it, didn't want it, didn't crave it.   
They had been helping Castiel, he had regained some, if not all, of his Grace and had returned to Heaven. It seemed there was a new order up there, and he had needed help tracking down renegades. The Angel was standing in the library, thumbing through a heavy looking tome.  
She grit her teeth, and flung the Blade on the table, it was an effort to let it go.  
'Put this somewhere.'  
'You will require it.' he argued.  
'Yes, I'll call you when I do, but please, Castiel, please. Its not good for me, its doing serious fucking damage to my psyche. I feel like Frodo fucking Baggins here!'  
'That is a reference. Sam enjoys the Lord of the Rings, Dean does not.'  
'Great.' she backed away from the table, but her eyes didn't leave the hideous weapon. 'Please Castiel.'  
'Of course.'  
When he had gone, taking the Blade with him, she slumped against the wall and went to the brothers. Leave it behind, she told herself, you didn't need it before, you don't need it now. Ready for a Hunt.  
They stayed on the road for weeks, taking Hunts as they found them. Temperance missed her car, she missed driving. Dean never let her drive his, which was probably for the best, she wasn't used to the left-hand drive and had never driven an automatic transmission before. It looked handy though, might be useful to know if she ever moved to a city.   
Dean was driving them North to Washington State, the car rumbled along happily under his hands. Temperance watched Sam and Dean bicker, good naturedly. Like brothers should. She always liked how they bounced off each other, but today she was crabby.  
'So, a Witch turned up dead, a Hunter and a kid. Not their kid, just a kid. All of them are the only children in their families as far as I can work out.' Sam explained.   
'Could be a Demon, could be a vengeful spirit.' Dean was fiddling with the radio dial.   
'Could be coincidence.' Temperance said, eyes closed on the back seat. She was irritable and nauseas and trying not to show it.   
She knew Dean had seen her trembling when they stopped for gas, he had flicked his eyes over her clammy skin but he hadn't said a word. She swallowed down bile, if she was honest, it felt like she was crashing. She was twerking with need for something, not pills or drink, she wanted the Blade. She wanted it in her hands, she wanted to feel it, the Mark wanted it back.  
Dean turned a little in his seat as they stopped at a traffic light, his lips parted, whatever he had been about to say was swallowed up, he took her in, eyes wide.   
'Shit, are you ok?'  
She nodded, mouth welded shut. He glanced back at the lights, put the car in drive.  
'Tem?'  
'I'm fine.'  
'Don't blow chunks in my back seat.' he warned.  
'I fucking wont!' she snapped.  
'You don't have the Blade.' Dean spoke, eyes on the road.  
He was preceptive, he was clever. She forced herself to speak.   
'Castiel does.'

No one spoke until they reached a squalid roadside motel some hours later. Sam went out for food, and Dean worked up the courage to speak.  
'What are you feeling?'  
She didn't have a straight forward answer to that. She was feeling a lot and nothing at the same time. She wrapped her hand around her pendant, tugging the chain into her skin.  
'Less human than ever. I hate it. I hate whats happening and I don't know if it will stop. I'm shit scared that I'm going to turn into my dad and I want Constantine back.' there was no point of lying to him, he'd only think up something worse if she didn't tell the truth.  
'You're not gonna turn into Cain, we're gonna get the Mark off of you once he's gone.'  
'Dead, you mean.' she spat.  
'Once he's dead.' he agreed, shuffling close to her. She raised her head, looking into his nice green eyes, he was wearing his resolute frown. His grown-up look.  
'Tem, listen to me, I'm gonna help you. I'm gonna do everything I can to help you but you need to tell me whats going on. You gotta let me in, otherwise I can't help. I wanna help you, just tell me how.'  
She blinked back sudden tears, and was mortified, so she turned her face away from his scrutiny. She wasn't about to cry, no, not over this.  
'I don't know how to talk about it. Some days it feels like I'm inside a storm and other days like I'm stuck in a box. Everything bad that I've ever done or ever even thought of doing, just jumps out and batters me from dawn to dusk. Thats not even the bad part of it though, thats something ordinary, human really, I've had those feelings before. The worst is when you and Sam go to bed, when you're asleep. I can feel something looking for me, searching for me and I know it will get me and I'll do something terrible. I'm scared shitless that one morning I'll wake up and I'll have killed you both. I fucking dream about it.' her voice broke. She promised herself she wouldn't cry.  
Dean stilled, he seemed to be waiting for more.  
'I see it, all the time, in the shadows, inside my head, in the fucking bathroom, on the fucking road. I see you on the ground like my mother, I see Sam shot through the head like Constantine. I see Crowley sparking out and Castiel's wings being shredded. All. The. Time!' she spat the words from between her teeth, shaking with the effort of not sobbing.   
'Tem.' her took her in his arms and kissed her on the head, like a child. Holding her tight against his steady chest. She felt like her heart might burst out from behind her ribs. He held her close.  
'I love you.'  
'I'm a mess.'  
'Its part of your charm.' he held her at arms length, trying to be reassuring.   
'I have charm?'  
'Not really.' he elbowed her and opened the car door.  
'You know, I'm here for you, always, day or night. You're not alone, never.'

Sam had his laptop open as Dean drove, his eyes flicking between news articles and occult pdfs. 'Oh.'  
'Oh?' Dean spared him a glance.  
'The Witch and the Hunter, em, both their fathers were doing serious gaol time. Same gaol.'  
Temperance pulled her attention away from the dark paths it had been traveling down. 'Is there something there?'  
He passed her the laptop, rubbing his eyes. 'Its all I've turned up so far.'  
She looked at the articles he had pulled up, her heart stuttered inside her chest, she didn't need to read farther than the second line of each one.   
'They were serial killers.'  
'Who? The Hunter?' Dean indicated and pulled off the road, turning in his seat to look at the screen.  
'Their dads.' she swallowed.   
'So?'  
'Its Cain, he's killing his descendants again. He's luring us out.'  
Sam's face fell, he grabbed the computer and stared at it in white knuckled shock. 'No, fuck, he can't. This, shit!' he spat.  
'And you're the articulate one.' Dean tried to ease the tension. He forced a smile, his teeth gleaming behind pink lips.  
'Are we ready for this?'  
Temperance looked at him, dived into his green eyes and thought, if she had to do it, she could, with them behind her.  
'Ride or die, bitch.' she raised two fingers, flipping them off.   
Dean snorted, much to Sam's confusion, and got back on the road. He reached for the radio, his favourite rock station tuned in. 'Huh, I don't know this one.'   
'It's McRad, you really need to to branch out beyond 1977.' Temperance didn't meet Sam's worried glance in the mirror. If she did she might freak out.  
'Nah. Nothing decent written after that.' Dean shook his head   
'When we get home.' perhaps ,if we get home might have been more truthful, but why worry at this point. She continued with a smirk. 'I'll play you some of mine.'  
'Yeah? Looking forward to it.' He hitched on a smile.  
Yes, she could do this, with him. 

The town was small, a few farms gathered around a grocery store, a book shop and an old fashioned service station, there was nowhere to stay, but the old man who ran the gas pumps was chatty. He wore faded overalls with a ragged Esso patch on the chest.   
'Yeah, heard about the kid dying.' he crossed himself piously.  
'Nothing as shameful as when the young die off.'  
'Yes.' Temperance agreed, handing over the cash for their gas.  
'His gran'momma raised him, her son was his dad, he died back in 08., killed himself after the bank took the land. She aint doing too good.'  
'A Tragedy.' Temperance climbed back into the car, Sam was listening in and gave her a nod.  
'Better find the grandmother so, before she ends up dead.'  
'We can ward her, keep her safe, but we need to get him to come to us.' Dean seemed so sure in his plan that Temperance found herself, uncharacteristically, agreeing with him.   
He wanted to lure out Cain, he had a scheme.  
They pulled off the road onto a bumpy track and stopped outside a run down house with a sagging barn. A grey haired woman in a thick cardigan and heavy work trousers came out onto the porch at the sound of the car.  
Sam and Dean had thrown on suits and donned FBI badges, they kept a stack of disguises in the car, and argued over their names as they drove.  
'Mrs. McAuley? I'm Agent Dante and this my partner Agent Landis.' Dean waved.  
'Mrs McAuley.' Sam shook her hand.   
'This is our our colleague, Ariana De Matteo from the Bureau, she works with the Behavioral Science Unit.'  
Temperance, much to their delight, had a very convincing New Jersey accent, she said it was down to binge watching the Soprano's.   
'Ana, please, Mrs McAuley. I am so sorry for your loss.'  
She gave them a watery, guarded, smile. Temperance realised she wasn't all that old, 65 at most, just worn out from hard work and heartbreak.  
'Well come in, not sure what more I can tell you. That other detective was round today, said you might call.'  
Dean froze 'Other detective?'  
'Was it Kane? Kayman?' She patted the pockets of her cardigan.  
'I thought I had his card here somewhere.'  
Sam hastened to cover up Dean's shock. 'Well, forgive us the intrusion. We weren't sure if anyone had gotten round to you yet, we are checking the whole area.'  
The grandmother sat, Temperance wondered if she still thought of herself as a grandmother, with both son and grandson gone. Her mind wandered towards her mother, her dad, was she still someones daughter if she killed her parents.   
Mrs McAuley looked careworn, yet iron strong beneath her grief, she took a breath.   
'Well I told him about my boy and about that hussy he married. She's still living up on the ridge, don't care that her son is dead.' she wiped away a glimmering tear, Temperance patted the back of her hand, trying to be soothing.   
'He said he'd be up to see her.'  
Temperance heart sank, one look at the brothers told her they had reached the same conclusion as her. They needed to split up, they didn't know who was one of Cain's descendants and who wasn't.  
'Would you mind if I spoke to you while my colleagues visit your, um, sons ex wife?' Sam, collected as always made the choice for them.  
'Sure.' she shrugged, directing them to the house some few kilometers out of town.

Dean drove recklessly over the cracked tarmac and down a rocky drive. A trailer, lone and rotting, sat next to a few shriveled birch trees. He looked around suspiciously, but Temperance just shook her head. She couldn't feel him.  
'He's not here.'  
She opened the door with her knee, letting it swing inwards. The woman wasn't long dead, the broken body still warm. There was a note pinned to her chest that Temperance removed, with care. It read, in her dads familiar handwriting 'I hope you brought it this time.' She crumpled it in her fist, trying desperately to centre herself.  
She hated being fucking manipulated.  
'What do we do?' she asked Dean. He scowled at the body and went outside, she heard him call for Castiel. A light, gentle rain began to fall, a rolling bank of clouds were building up over the forested land. Castiel handed over the Blade to Dean, who tucked it out of sight, then reached out and squeezed Temperance shoulder.  
'Sister.' he said, reassuringly.  
Knowing the Blade was there, feeling it near by was worse than being separate from it. She shuddered and tucked her hands into her pockets. She had stopped thinking of the Mark as being on her arm, now she just thought of herself as Marked, she wanted that Blade. She would do anything for that Blade.  
Castiel seemed to consider her a moment, blotting rain from his hands he shook his arm in his sleeve, bringing out a three sided knife. 'My Angel Blade. Please take it.'  
It was heavy, ugly to her eyes and she tried not let that show. 'Thank you.'  
'I hope you do not need it.'  
They returned to the McAuley farm, found Sam outside walking the lot and pouring salt, surreptitiously from under his coat. His face settled into a grim mask of determination when they explained the woman was dead and that Cain had known they would be there.  
'I've warded the house. As long as she stays put she should be fine.'  
'The barn looks good for a showdown.' Dean had turned his practical eye to their defense. 'I've a few ideas, if we can just get him inside it.'  
Temperance swallowed, grabbing the pendant around her neck, it was happening. It was going to happen. She didn't know if she wanted it to or not. She was split, neatly in two, one part of her craving death, the other wanting to disappear.  
Cain had raised her.  
Cain had murdered John Constantine.   
'We could trap him, that would keep him distracted, keep his full strength off me.' she said, looking at the grim skyline.   
'Off us.' Dean pressed, marching into the barn and taking a can of spray paint form a kit bag.  
'Dean, you can't face him.' she tried to reason while he began drawing a ward on the warped wooden floor boards.   
'Well, I aint gonna sit by and let you do it alone. Ride or die, remember?' he stood, kicking hay over his markings  
He was stubborn and she didn't know how to argue with him. Sam was worried, Castiel was worried. She looked around, the urge to run was making her legs twitch.  
Night was falling and she called Crowley, he appeared by her side in a heartbeat.   
'You're worried about something.'  
'How the fuck?' she looked at the emerald and shook her head.   
'You're impossible, you know that?'  
'Yes.' he smiled.  
'Its happening, Cain, tonight.' she found she couldn't say anymore, the words refused to form on her tongue.   
His smile slid off at that and his hand wrapped tightly around her arm.   
'I'll be here.'  
'I need your help.'  
'Anything!' he laced his fingers through hers, staring down at her intensely.   
'I need to you shield the boys, stop them getting involved. I need you to do this.' she took his other hand, the pressure might have hurt anyone else.  
He hesitated, his lips forming an argument, but it was silenced before he could voice it. He nodded. 'I can do that, I promise.'  
She let out a shaky breath and hugged him. 'Thank you.'

He arrived as the moon was rising, she felt him. The bond went beyond the Mark, he was her dad, regardless of blood, she knew he was there and he knew that she was there.  
It was easy to lure him into the barn, where she was waiting. Dean handed over the Blade, looking at the man with venom.  
'This wont hold me for long.' Cain said, though he seemed a little impressed by the ward around his feet. His eyes followed the passage of the knife, from Dean's hand to hers. She suddenly imagined it in Cain's fist and had to work not to scream. It was hers, hers, the Mark made it hers. She couldn't bare the thought of it anywhere else but in her hand or in someones fucking throat.   
She held the Blade firmly, then looked at Crowley, who, with a nod, snapped him fingers. The boys were dragged back, imprisoned behind an invisible barrier.  
'No!' Dean shouted.   
'Crowley you son of a bitch!'  
'Witch, actually' he drawled, but he wasn't looking at them, he had eyes only for Temperance. Beside him Castiel was glaring at Cain, he managed to look a little menacing, until Cain raised a hand and banished the Angel and Demon alike with a curt gesture.  
Shit. He was gone, Cain, he wasn't her dad anymore. He had given in to the Mark, completely and all his power that he forswore had returned.   
Even within the ward he was strong, she had never thought he could do what he had just done. Temperance didn't let fear show on her face, she couldn't let him see that she knew he was playing with them, she rushed forward, teeth bared, her eyes dark and glittering. Don't think, act.   
He dodged her blows, landed a few crushing punches on her body, she didn't let it phase her. She danced aside on graceful feet, jumping out of his reach, trying to spin under his guard. It was like being a kid again, it was like learning to fight all over again.  
He bellowed a laugh at her weaving and stuck out quickly, his own hunting knife slashing over her arm. 'You're not strong enough.' he hissed, as she pulled away.  
'You haven't given in to it, have you, you cant hope to defeat me as you are.'  
'You raised me to do just that, without this.' she flexed her Marked arm, dodged another slash of the knife.  
'I kill fucking Demons.'  
'You are a fucking Demon.'  
Temperance smiled, she had never heard him curse before. She managed to nick his hand, lightly cut across his shoulder. The Blade in her fist sang, tasting blood, it had been so hungry, so desperate. She felt it trying to overwhelm her, the Mark burned on her arm and she shouted out against the onslaught of screaming pain. She didn't see his foot moving. She didn't hear her boys shouting.  
Cain kicked her, hard, she tumbled over the floor, blood pouring from her head where her skin split. The Blade skittered across the boards, landing between them.   
He raised a hand, calling it, while she scrambled forward, hurrying to her feet, diving. It was too late, it crossed the ward, scoring a line through the magic. He had the Blade, he was free. She stopped short, panic building under her tongue. She was going to die here, in fucking America.   
'Abomination. My little monster.' he teased, stepping out of the trap.  
'I'm a killer.' and she smiled, a horrific smile as the truth of it set in.   
She was going to die, but she was going to take him with her. He was cocky, he was old, he had gotten rusty.  
'You're just a guy with a curse.'  
'I am the Father of Murder.' he took a breath, seeming to relish to power that flowed into him.  
'The father of me.' she countered, she pulled Castiel's Angel Blade from its sheath, levelled the point at his chest.  
He did not hold back, but neither did she, for every blow she landed he seemed to land five more. She was blinking back blood, winded and weakening. Her skin refused to heal any more, it costs too much. Cain smacked her down, her ears ringing as her head hit the ground. Her left lung was sucking in blood, she was going to drown in it.  
'Beg and I wont kill your friends.' he pulled her to her knees, dusting straw off her back. He stood before her, Blade at his side. He held it loosely, familiar, confident, too confident.  
She snarled, spat out a cracked tooth and remembered how horrible John had looked when she found him, chained in a basement, bleeding. She called to mind just how shit of a dad Cain had been, for each kindness, each ice-cream and music lesson there had been a monster and a beating.   
'Begging's not my business, dad.' and she knew that it really wasn't. 

It wasn't that he moved slowly, but he moved with too much assurance, it was exactly the type of thing he had trained her against. The Angle Blade was in her hand, she rolled her head back, slicing down. She could move fast, she was a child of two worlds, she could pour power into her human body, power that god had made when the Earth and mankind were just a thought in the back of its mind. That power dwarfed Cain.  
He pulled back, roaring as her knife took his hand off at the wrist and she struggled up, stabbing wildly into his chest. His severed hand had fallen into the dust, the Blade free of its dead hold. She picked it up, it seemed to fill her with strange joy and her dad, gargling on the ground, saw it in her fist. He raised his hunting knife with his remaining hand.  
She stabbed him in the throat, a gasp as the breath rushed from the wound a sucking grunt of blood as he died. Pain flared in her chest. Panting she slumped over his body, a hand holding her blood back, but already it was dripping through her fingers, falling free despite her best efforts.   
Sam and Dean were fighting against the wards that Crowley had thrown up around them. With all of her strength, which was not nearly enough to go on with, she stood, the Blade falling from limp fingers, she tumbled to the door and rolled it back. One last look at the sky, one last kiss of the wind. She stumbled in the dust, it should hurt. She realised, it really should hurt. 

She dropped her head, she was so tired that the thought of sleeping seemed like too much effort. The night air was cold on her skin. She was vaguely aware of Dean calling her name, vaguely aware of a yawning, engulfing sound all around her. She raised her human eyes.  
He towered above her, massive and beautiful. 'It is good that you bow before me.' his voice was painful to hear, but she was beyond pain at this point.  
'Can't I fucking die in peace.' something was tugging inside her, something familiar, oily, powerful and then a burning, ferocious light. Each trying to drown the other out. She winced, closed her eyes.   
'Go away.'   
'You're weak, a ruin.' the Angel walked around her, expensive shoes kicking up clouds of dry dirt.   
'I can finally see you now, thank you. Cain was holding the wards until the last.'  
'Well, he was my dad.' She staggered up and stood trembling, her knees screaming in protest.   
'Fuck off.' she coughed.  
The Blade was on the barn floor, Castiel's Angel Blade was bloody beside it. The glowing figure resolved into something more human, her father by blood, the Archangel, and he stood with a great sword in his hand.   
'I couldn't find you while he lived. Now I see you, abomination. Now I will kill you, as I have long wanted.'  
She heard a commotion as the boys hit a barrier behind her and clattered to the ground. Something, maybe the Angel, was weaving magic around her.  
'Could have saved yourself a lot of trouble and just used a rubber.' she felt cold. Blood was rolling out from behind her ribs, spilling over and dripping steadily onto her shoes.   
Michael raised the weapon. 'Humour will not save you.'  
'Listen, daddy dearest. I've already killed two of my parents.' her eyes went black, there was a rush of wind as great wings unfurled from her shoulders. Chaos surged inside her and she laughed. If she was going to Hell anyway, might as well go there in style.   
'Lets go for three out of three.'  
'You sully the Grace of God with your foul existence!' he jumped forward. He was strong, he was fresh for the fight, he had age and experience on his side and he knew his weapon.  
She was dying, she dodged the blade, weaving and dancing around it. All she had was the familiar weight of her clothes, the heavy drag of her hair as it came loose from its plait, the flow her flesh. All she had was herself and for once, finally it seemed, that was more than enough. She was more powerful than the dead man in the barn, her dead mother in Hell, her dead love in Heaven.   
Her leg took his feet from under him, a grunt of surprise as he crashed down on his knees. A hand on his shoulder she launched over his sword, over his arm. She clenched the great wings with her desperately strong fingers and pulled, screaming.The snap wasn't a sound, not really, more of a feeling, he howled and fought to throw her off. She landed on her back, badly, the air driven from her injured lungs. She could taste something like salt in her mouth.  
A quick roll saved her from the impossibly sharp sword, his boot lashed a kick at her arm, her wrist snapping from the force. What did pain matter. Cain always said, accept it, move on. Put it behind you.  
She pulled power into her limbs and dove, her fist in his throat, her hand to his chest. The sword clattered away and they rolled in the rich American dirt. Horse and corn and petrichor crowding her nostrils. He was so strong, she felt her ribs shatter from the force of his kick, felt bone splinter and flesh rend.   
Choking on bloody foam, as he laughed with a voice that would have hurt if her eardrums had been whole, she tried to recall the banishing spell that John used. It was there, somewhere inside her head, she knew it, she knew that she knew it. She scrabbled for purchase, trying vainly to land a blow. Her nails gouged deep lines around his eye and he threw his head back, with a hiss. Yes, destruction, pain, blood, yes she wanted this, this was what she was.  
Papa Midnite would be so disappointed in her, she thought, not even knowing one spell to help her. He seemed to shake his head at her, from he long corridor of her mind. Latin, it had flooded back to her now, and she stood not strong and not straight. 'Michael, de hoc mundo exisse, in nomine Dei iuberis.' a racking cough stole her breath, she gasped and floundered as he fought against the spell, his own magical barrier dropping and letting the brothers run forward. 'De hoc.' another cough made her bend double ' De hoc.' she couldn't finish it, her voice was barely there.  
'Go the hell you piece of shit!' Dean Winchester's had never been more celebrated than in that moment in her heart. He drew a ward on the dirt and banished the Angel in a flurry of dispersing light. 

She fell to one knee and let loose a sharp cry, she knew something wasn't right, she could feel something inside her and it was terrible, it felt like nothing. Dean was a her side, he was holding her up, but she didn't look at him, she couldn't look. The light had bleached her vision, leaving nothing but shades of darkness, crimson cloaked.  
'Where's Gus?' she managed.  
'Cain banished him and Cas.' Sam explained, but his voice cut off sharply, seeing the extent of her wounds.   
'Holy fuck! Tem!'  
'S'ok.' she said as blood flowed sluggishly down from her ribs.   
Where that blood had bloomed bright and fast, it now seemed so very slow, and so much darker. There wasn't much left, if she was human she would already be dead, but the Angel in her made her heart pump, the Demon made her brain fire.  
'Can't you heal?' Deans hands fluttered to her side.   
'Need the Blade.' she said. He handed it over, trusting her, holding her upright.   
'You're gonna be fine. Cas?' he shouted the Angle's name, his voice breaking with the volume, the strain.  
She needed the Blade, it would work with the Blade, she understood that now.  
The two beings, dark and light, appeared by the door and hurried forward, she dint look up, she couldn't. She tightened her hold on the knife. It felt so right. She hated it, the call the pull, she couldn't stand it. She put her exhausted hand over Dean's.  
Before Dean could so much as look at her, before the others had even registered her movement, the Blade was in the hollow of her throat and she thrust it home.  
She was not there to hear the roar of horror, the desperate cries. She was not there when Dean lifted her in both arms and brought her home. She was gone, gone was a good place to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments welcome, thanks for the bookmark and kudos - hope you like this so far :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He froze, as her fingers trailed over his belly, under his jacket, towards his chest. She pulled herself into his lap, carefully sheathing the knife at her ankle. He frowned at her thighs, pressing round his middle.   
> 'Temperance?'...
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

He laid her on the bed, straightening her clothes. Dean stroked her cheek clumsily. 'Goodbye, Tem.' She was small, so very small in death. Thin and broken and grey. He turned away and closed the door softly behind him.

From the shadows there came a cautious step of leather shoes on the concrete. Crowley went to the body and eyed it, critically.   
'You know, you're friend Moose is summoning me as we speak. To make a deal, to bring you back. It's all become so.' he sighed, sat down on the bed, he found her hand and squeezed it.  
'So expected hasn't it? You have to believe me, darling, when I suggested this course of events. With one of you taking the Mark of Cain, I never thought that this would happen. That it would be you. Not really. I mean I might not have told our dear Winchesters the entire truth, but I never lied. I never lie, darling, thats important, its fundamental.'   
He stood, straightened his jacket, agitation in his every breath. 'But, there is one story about Cain I never mentioned, and you never mentioned either. A story you must have known, that he, too, was willing to accept death, rather than becoming the killer that the Mark wanted him to be, so he took his own life with the Blade, he died, but as rumour has it the Mark never quite let go.'   
He pulled the First blade from his pocket, held it up to the light, turning the old bone this way and that, then he turned around, to her body.   
'You understand why I never spoke of this, why set hearts aflutter with mere speculation. I do wonder why you kept mum about it though, darling. It wasn't until tweedle-dee and tweedle-dumb brought it up with you, until I saw you decide not to tell them, that I began to believe that maybe miracles do come true.'   
He put the knife in her hand, folding her bloody arm onto her chest. 'Listen to me Temperance, what you are feeling right now, its not death. It is life. Open your eyes sweetheart.' he stroked the hair from her face.   
'Come on darling, see what I see, feel what I feel.' He stepped back from the bed.   
'Lets go take a howl at that moon.'  
Her deathly pallor receded, the open wounds slowly sticking themselves back together. Her eyes opened, black and brilliant and completely dead. She stood, all of her living grace altered, grotesquely perfect in every way. He offered her a hand and she looked at it, as if she had never seen a hand before. She put a curious finger to his flesh and looked into his eyes.  
He faltered at that, it was still Temperance but it wasn't, she oozed absolute insanity. Chaos barely kept in check, there was a clatter from the hall and she jumped, landing in a crouch, cat like, on the other side of the room.  
'Temperance?' he asked.  
Her head snapped round and she smiled, flowing back and putting her arms around him. She didn't speak, he wasn't sure if she could. He glanced down at the knife, uncertainly and with a snap, transported them both to Hell. 

Time moved differently in Hell, sometimes quicker, sometimes so much slower. After what seemed like a day, humans arrived in his kingdom and he knew which ones to expect. He gave orders to let them into the Throne room. When they arrived, in a tumbled and armed to the teeth, Dean saw her and let out a cry.  
'Tem!'   
'Hello boys. Welcome to Hell.' Crowley smiled.   
'Let her go, Crowley.' Sam growled.  
He let out a roar of laughter. 'Let her go? Oh, boys, you've got this all in a tumble. Isn't that right, darling?'  
Her arm rested against on top of the throne, her hair loose. She climbed into his lap and pressed her face to his throat. He cradled her against him, one hand on her hip, the other trailing over her leg.   
'You see. She wants to be here.' he explained, relishing the mens shock.  
'What?” Deans arm trembled.  
'She's mine. My Knight. She died and became what she always was, a Demon.' he paused 'Possibly.'  
'No. She's half Angel too.'Sam spoke like he could make it happen, just by believing in it enough.  
'She's alive.' Dean spoke in an hushed tone and Tem turned her curious eyes to him.   
'How is she alive?'  
Temperance clambered down, her bare feet were graceful as a dancers on the flagstones. She tiptoed to Dean who fell to his knees, and held out a hand, like a child trying to entice a timid animal.  
'Whats wrong with her?' Sam asked, apprehensively.   
'Nothing.' Crowley snapped, then he stood with a shrug when Sam's wide eyes darted to him.  
'Well, nothing that I can tell anyways. I think she's still healing, her mind is trying to piece itself back together. That curse did a number on her.'  
On the ground Tem had stopped and knelt down, a meter or so away from her friend and began to trace the grooves in the stone with a ragged fingernail.  
'She should come home. Hell can't be good for her.' Sam insisted.  
'How'd you reckon that? She's more at home here than on earth. Isn't that right, darling?' Crowley purred.  
At the question in his tone she looked up, hopped to her feet and bounded over to his side, where she immediately became distracted by the carvings on the chair back.   
Dean looked devastated 'She came back wrong? What did you do?'  
'Me? Nothing! Came back all on her own, that's the curse after all.' he shrugged and settled back into his Throne.   
'I'll be sure to let you know if we require your help now, don't let the door hit you on the way out.'  
'Wait!' Sam began, but he didn't get a chance to finish. The King raised a hand and banished them away. In the ensuing silence, his hand pressing into her skin, she kissed him. It was delicate, a small thing, just a press of her warm lips to his. A child's kiss.  
'You have to start talking soon, darling' Crowley pinched her chin. Her expressive eyes were tired, hooded beneath their dropping lids.   
He scooped her up and brought her to his chambers, behind his office, hidden away from all prying eyes. He put her down on the four poster bed, gently easing off her jeans and bringing the silk comfier up over her her legs. 'Sleep, Angel.' he whispered, bending down to kiss her temple. Her slim hand grabbed his as he turned away. He raised his brows as she dragged open her eyes and tugged him back.   
'Alright.' he sighed. 'Just for a minute'. He settled down beside her, holding her close in his arms. As she slept he considered a few things, quite a few things, none of them good.

She always turned up in strange places, he found her in a crumbling tower over looking the planes, grubby and scuffed as if she had been scrambling in the dust. She followed him back to the Throne room, trailing her fingers along the stone. There was a new glint in her eyes. He didn't like it, it was calculating, too clever by far. He set her on the ground by his feet, tempted to tie her up there.  
He had a mountain of paperwork to get through and the brothers kept intruding, his phone constantly ringing. 'Where is she?' Dean kept asking 'Is she ok?'  
Rolling his eyes at his phone Crowley glanced down at Temperance, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, stabbing a knife, with increasing speed, between her spread fingers. 'She's fine.' not exactly a lie.  
'Is she talking? Is she?'  
He cut him off with a snap 'Listen, squirrel, when theres a change I will let you know. Now, stop calling me!'  
Temperance looked up at the phone clattered off the wall, she turned her eyes to him and crawled across to his feet, knife in her teeth. 'I didn't mean to disturb you, darling' he stroked her hair, turning back to his contract. He froze, as her fingers trailed over his belly, under his jacket, towards his chest. She pulled herself into his lap, carefully sheathing the knife at her ankle. He frowned at her thighs, pressing round his middle.   
'Temperance?'  
'My King.' she said, in a voice that was husky with disuse. He snarled, gripping her by the throat and slamming her down on the desk. She looked, mildly surprised by this, but kept her legs around him.   
'Whats wrong?'  
'You're not Temperance.' he spat, digging his nails into her skin. His darting eyes searching her face, for some sign.  
She covered his hand with her own, gently. 'Am too.' her eyebrow cocked and to his utter disgust, her eyes flooded black.  
He let her go and sat back down, soothing his tie. 'So, you're a Demon now, thats it?'  
'I always was.' she countered, her voice still low. She sat up, swinging her legs, her bare feet kicking softly off of his knees. 'I can't remember what happened.'  
'How you kicked the proverbial bucket?' he steepled his fingers, gazing at her. It was like something from a bad horror film, the evil twin taking the place of the good one.  
'Yes' she slid into his lap again, tucking herself under his chin.   
'Tell me.'  
'Say please' he sneered, a growing disgust of being in her presence building. She was wrong, it was all wrong, it wasn't Temperance.  
'Please tell me, my lord, how is is that I came to be, like, super dead.' a sing song voice, mocking and harsh.  
He snorted at that, still wrong but maybe not quite so different as he feared. He put his hands down around her, her human warmth was gone and her body was hellishly hot as was his. 'Well, you killed yourself, darling.'  
'Sounds like me.' she looped her arms around his neck and pressed her face to his skin.   
'Gone all coy and coquettish, have you?' his fingers itching to snap her oh so delicate neck, just to see what she would do.  
'Should I leave' she asked, in a sultry whisper. 'Don't you like me here?'  
'I could stand to keep you around, I suppose.' he glanced down at her, curled on his lap, mind racing.   
'What do you remember?'  
'Pain, heartache, despair' she paused and he shuddered as her tongue dragged over his adams apple.   
'I remember getting Marked, I remember the look in your eye when I did. I remember Sardinia and the shape of your body under your wet shirt. I remember killing my mother and I remember liking it. I remember my dad, what he said.'  
'What did he say?' he ran his fingers through her hair, waiting.  
'That he would never stop.' she looked into his face, something very clever behind her bored disdain.   
'What do I do now?'  
'You're a Knight of Hell.' he eased her off his lap, standing and putting some distance between them.   
'You can do what ever you want, as long as I say so.'  
'Can I kill someone who deserves it?'  
'Of course, petal.' he tapped her on the nose as she knelt on the chair.  
'What about someone who doesn't deserve it? Someone nice and young and innocent as a fucking turtle dove?'  
He cocked his head to the side 'Possibly.'  
She pouted, sliding back onto the floor and taking out her knife. 'Tell me who' she urged, spreading her hand and beginning to stab the space between her fingers again. With a thundering heart he sent her to the dungeons to practice on a few renegade Demons and found a new phone to call for back up.

Dean stepped through the portal, his stomach churning with the weight of reality around him. He was before the carved doors of Crowley's throne room when someone came round the corner, humming.   
She was coated with blood, from chin to toe. Her, once, white sundress clung to her with the weight of it. 'Hello.'   
Dean could only look on in shock, it was a nightmare, straight from the pages of Carrie. He couldn't speak.  
She pranced over to him, leaving splatters of gore in her wake. 'Did you miss me?” she jumped up to put her arms around him.   
He froze, not sure whether to hold her close or throw her away from him.  
'It's? You're?'  
She giggled and took a few steps back, her eyes flicking to hell smoke. 'Dead as a dodo, thats me.'  
He raised his knife, half heartedly 'You're a Demon?'  
'Always was! ' she chided, prancing away.   
'Well, come in, don't just stand there.'  
Crowley looked up at the sound of her sticky feet on the flags, he dismissed the Demons before him with a wave. 'Temperance.' he said, 'I wondered where you had got to.'  
'Dean's here.' she said, flipping into a cartwheel and curtsying at Crowley's feet.  
'Can I kill him?'  
'No.' he eyed the Hunter as he stepped forward. Dean read a little flicker of unease in his face.  
'Crowley, what the hell is going on?' Dean looked down at the trail of blood she had left behind and the noticeable lack of a body to have spilled it all.   
Temperance stepped onto the table and surveyed them lazily, she flipped onto her back her head hanging over the carved ledge. She moved wrong, too fast, too awkwardly, terribly graceful and terribly wrong.  
'Well, Temperance, as you can see.' Crowley patted her belly and she squirmed onto her front, snapping her teeth at him.   
'Is almost back to normal.'  
'Almost?' Dean couldn't take his eyes off hers, they kept flickering between black smoke and her own dark grey iris. She seemed fixated on him, measuring and weighing, her tongue poked out, tracing a line over her lips.   
'Almost.' Crowley smiled, without any mirth, his eye twitched.   
'Darling, go into my study and get the contract on my desk, please.'  
'Why?'   
'Do as I say.' he chided, but Dean could see the tremor in his hand, betraying his worry. She rolled the length of the table, clattered off and scrambled down the hall, leaving Crowley to hurry close to the Hunter. 

'She's not right.' he pointed out, unable to look at her as she left.  
'What the hell did you do?' Dean's agonised whisper tore away his breath.  
'Me? Nothing! Anyway, thats not the point. We need to get her to Earth, to your dungeon.'  
'Why?” Dean rubbed the heel of his hands into his eyes. When Crowley had rang he had thought it was to say she was back, back to normal. Fixed. He had hoped for a miracle.  
'This is so fucked up, Crowley!'  
'To cure her, your cure, remember?' he hissed, panic etched into his features.   
'Get her there, now! Before she fucking kills us all.'  
Sticky footsteps hopped towards them and Temperance returned with a thick scroll under her arm. 'Can I please have.' she paused, depositing the paper in Crowley's hands and, throwing her arms around him, said 'An ice-cream.'  
He looked pained, 'Sure. Better clean you up first.'  
'Are there ice-creams in Hell?” Dean smiled weakly while she tore off her ruined dress. Her skin beneath was just as bloody, he felt bile rising in his throat and looked away. He knew he'd never get that image out of his head.  
She was looking with a practiced sickly adoration into Crowley's eyes, who clicked his fingers to clothe her in a clean dress. ''Earth then! Please.'  
'Fine, lets go.' he stuffed the paper in his jacket and held out a hand, which she took. Dean led the horrifying pair to the door.   
'Do you, um, wanna see Sam?' They went through the portal that Crowley opened, walking onto the Earth near a stooped yew tree.  
'Yes.' she said, dropping Crowley's arm and spinning with unerring grace before his shocked face. Her eyes were all black again.   
'Can I eat him?'  
'What? No!' he pushed her aside, shuddering  
'We don't eat our friends. Unless thats their thing.' Crowley joked, or tried to joke. His tone was off.   
She led the way into a diner and slid onto a red stool, where she spun around while the men stood to one side. An elderly waitress approached,   
'What can I getcha hon?'  
'Ice-cream sundae!' she stopped considering the menu, 'With hot fudge sauce and sprinkles and cherries and a chocolate wafer.'  
'To go.' Dean added 'Please.' he took out his phone and typed a message in. Temperance looked around, raised a finger and snapped it against her palm. The sound echoed in the deserted diner. A stuffed deer head mounted on the wall snuffled and blinked down at them.  
'Temperance!' Crowley admonished, snapping his finger to undo her magic.   
'Thats disgusting.'   
He was shaken, clearly shaken, his grip on her wrist looked painful.  
The waitress returned, handing over Temperance's treat with a smile 'There ya go, honey.'  
'Oh thank you!' she took it in both hands, getting off the stool carefully, holding it before her like a child.   
Dean paid with cash and looked at Crowley. 'Now what?'

He looked pained as he put a hand out to her. 'Come here.' she did, lips smeared with caramel. He put his hands around her and hurriedly slapped a ward on her back, a trap. She squirmed, hard nails scrapping at the magic. Crowley grabbed Deans wrist and hurriedly brought them to the Bunker, to the little store room before the dungeon. He shoved her across with a snarl.  
Her head came up, eyes flashing. 'My ice-cream!'  
Sam had hurried down, waiting for them at the door, he snapped the cuffs on to her protesting wrists and shoved her into the chair. He jumped back as her feet lashed out.  
Dean was staring resolutely at his own scuffed boots. She was snarling, writhing against the restraints like a wild animal.  
'What is she ?” Sam asked, his horrified eyes on the bound woman.  
'To utilise a phrase 'the bitch is crazy'' Crowley droned.  
The brothers looked at each other, dark scowls on their handsome faces. 'You made her that way.' Sam pointed out, he had a medical chest on the table and began to lay out a number of vials and needles.  
'Did not!' he straightened up, indignant.   
'You told her to get the Mark.' Dean pointed out, wanting to bolt through the door and never see any of this again.  
'She was my best friend, I never wanted her to be this.'  
'Really?' Dean scowled.  
'I suggested that one of you take it, I didn't tell her too. I didn't think it would come to this' he hissed, eyes darting about.  
'Not really.'  
The Demon on the chair sniggered. 'Not really?' her voice was different, sultry more feminine, less deranged. San shuddered, with his back to her.  
'Darling I'm everything you've always wanted. I am yours, devoted to you.' she purred, a harsh light in her black eyes.  
'You're not her.' Crowley said with a shrug, then vanished.  
'Fickle!' she sneered, rolling her eyes to the brothers.   
'Well boys, I'm right where you want me, now, what are you going to do to me.'  
'Cure you.' Sam, didn't flinch, he was ready.  
She laughed, she laughed long and hard and when it subsided into quieter giggles she bit her lips. She looked up at them and said 'Cure me? What is there to cure, I was born a Demon.'  
'You were human. Dean stopped as her laughter peeled in the room like a clamour of great bells. It made a racket in his head, she was insane, she had to be.  
'Human? I never was! Fucking moron. I was always a Demon.'   
'You were always half Demon. Half something else, remember.' Sam turned around a syringe in his hand.   
Her eyes narrowed. 'You think that will work?'  
'Yeah. I do!' he slammed the needle into her thigh.  
She screeched as the blessed blood forced itself into her system, it gurgled off into a laugh when she saw Dean flinch.   
'I don't!' she laughed, she kept laughing as they closed the door and shut her into the dark.

Sam kept up the doses, one syringe of blessed blood every hour until her eyes began to change back, Then he switched to human. She stopped laughing after that, flinching away from his hands.  
'It wont work. You might as well just kill me.' her voice low.  
'No'  
'I hate you.'  
'I hate Demons' he said, dispassionately.   
'You've never really trusted me, not in the way that Dean did.' she mused, while he cleaned his tools.  
'You were friendly, but it was just a front.'  
'Maybe.' Sam shrugged.   
'Remember when you first put me in here?' she asked, meeting his eyes, arching her back off the chair.   
'Yes.' he bent to prepare another needle.   
'You were an Angel then. Cruel and mighty.'  
He pressed another needle into her arm and she whined, turning her face away.   
'Well I'm only human now.' he wiped the needle, putting it aside.   
She blinked away tears. 'Funny that. I think I almost am too'. She stood, quickly, the chains shattering, and her eyes fluttered black.   
'Human enough, anyway.'


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Sister.' he stood, walking towards her, resolute and without fear.   
> 'I'm not your fucking sister.' She said, without venom, eyes alight with wicked delight. Dean couldn't help but notice all the things he liked about her, they were all magnified in that moment. She was harsh and ferocious and ready for a fight, she glittered. Perfect and terrible all at once.......
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

Sam gasped and tottered back. She took a step forward, reached the edge of the trap and said. 'Do you think I can do it?' her foot rose, it moved over the line.   
'Run, little boy.' her tone a ragged hiss.  
Dean and Sam fled through the corridors, screaming for Castiel. The steady tread of her heels echoing around them. 'Come out, come out' she called.   
'Don't make me come find you!'  
Dean, shaking, around the next corner grasped a baseball bat with sweaty hands. She paused, cocked her head 'I can hear your heart hammering, Hunter.'  
He swung, the shock of the bat hitting something not flesh sent a jolt of pain up his arm and he fell back, scuttling away. She wasn't even dazed, she brushed splinters of wood from her dress and walked steadily after him.  
She was herding them into the Library, there was only one entrance and the brothers found themselves crouched by the shelves. Panicked, but determined as always. Sam palmed the last syringe and said   
'We gotta get her down.'  
'I know' Dean's voice hollow.   
'Cas!'  
The Angel appeared and they tugged him down. Dean hurried to explain.  
'Its Tem. We're so close to curing her man, so goddamn close!'  
'I understand. I shall assist.'  
Before they could speak and formulate a plan her voice rang out. 'I can smell you Castiel.'  
'Sister.' he stood, walking towards her, resolute and without fear.   
'I'm not your fucking sister.' She said, without venom, eyes alight with wicked delight. Dean couldn't help but notice all the things he liked about her, they were all magnified in that moment. She was harsh and ferocious and ready for a fight, she glittered.   
Perfect and terrible all at once. He pulled Sam around the shelving, quietly, trying to flank her.  
'You are part Angel, even now, God has not abandoned you. Return to his light, to your Grace.'  
'Your god is dead. He fucked off and he's not coming back, he let Heaven be pulled into ruin without him and he didn't give a shit. How many apocalypses have your flannel clad boys averted? How many people died when your god left his watch?'  
'You cannot anger me, Temperance. I love you.'  
'Demon's can't love, not too sure that Angels can either.' she waved her fingers, little sparks of electricity flickering between them. Sam jumped and she moved too fast, her fist to his throat throwing him back. A shelf collapsed under him, Dean saw the syringe rolling away across the floor, lost in the shadows. Castiel had launched himself forward as she spun back, catching her off balance though very much on guard. The tile cracked from the force which her body hit the wall, but she recovered instantly, kicking off the ground and hitting Castiel with a vicious left hook.  
It was so like her to ignore her power and lash out with her fists, Dean dived for the blessedly intact vial of blood and ran forward. She was shorter than him, it took all his strength to throw her face down against Castiel, the Angel grappling to hold her down, Dean raised the syringe and slammed the needle into her back.  
Her body crumpled, and she lay, gasping across Castiel's chest. He loosened his hold, tenderly releasing her shoulders from the death grip of his desperate hands. Dean pulled himself up and looked down at her. Waiting.   
Her eyes opened, slowly, raw and red with unshed tears. She couldn't look at him. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry.' the first garbled words.  
You're back.' He pulled her into a hug, she was shivering.  
There were half a million things that needed to be said, a thousand thoughts and feelings, but all the brothers could do was hold her and she let herself be held. 

After a time she limped on exhausted legs to the showers, a waft of lemon soap and antiseptic reminded her exactly where she was. It grounded her, it made her realise that she was alive, her body was alive, and that she had been dead.   
Her heart was fluttering wildly inside her chest, she could feel it, she could hear it. Had she noticed the blood crashing through her veins before, had there always been a squirm as her organs powered her skin and bones around to live. She felt powerless against the force of that life, it held her close, it would not let her go.  
She pressed a hand to her chest, steam rose around her as the scalding hot, rust flecked, water crashed down around her. She closed her eyes. That was a mistake, it all came back to her in a rush and she forgot, for a moment, how to breathe.  
She screwed her eyes shut and sat in the shower tray, waiting for the panic to dissipate. Her heart hammered in her chest at every shifting image. Blood, mayhem and death, she saw pain and she kept causing it. The water went cold, she didn't notice.   
'Tem?' Dean knocked on the wall.   
'You've been in there for almost 2 hours.'  
'Told you that I hog the shower.' she couldn't find the energy to raise her voice, so she wasn't sure if her heard the attempt at humor.   
She shut off the faucet, dragged herself up and looked in the mirror only to flinch away. All her numerous scars were gone, every single one save for the Mark, even the terrible magic burns on her neck and down her arm had disappeared, her skin was flawless. Horribly flawless. She had earned everyone of those wounds, they mapped out her life and her life had ended.   
Dean, she noticed, looked as bad as she felt. '  
Hi' she said, after a while just staring at him.  
He opened his arms and she fell into them. He was warm and solid and she hadn't been held like this in so long. She didn't cry, had a feeling that if she started she wouldn't be able to stop.   
'You gonna call Crowley?' he asked, uncaring that she was naked, that her hair and skin were wet, that his clothes were getting damp and cold.   
'Eventually.'  
'He was so worried about you, I mean, the shit-head knew exactly what this Mark would do, but he was still worried.' He tugged a threadbare towel down from the rack and wrapped it around her.  
'Ah' she pulled away and he followed her to her room. It was unchanged, save for a light layer of dust on the surfaces. She pulled on some clothes and tried to gather her thoughts. 'I knew what this Mark would do, I knew what it did to Cain.'   
'You knew?' He seemed to have adopted the deadpan tone she reserved for use when she was particularly unimpressed. The worry and pity disappearing under it. She deserved that.  
She sat on the bed and pulled him down to join her, accepting what she assumed would be an onslaught of his anger.   
'It drives you to it, thats part of the curse, it drives you to sin until you can't live anymore. I was in bad shape after that fight, shit. Dean, I would have died if I wasn't, you know, what I am. It hurt so much and I could barely remember my own name, let alone fight against it any longer. I was fighting everything, I was fighting life and death, my dad and Michael, myself and the Mark.' She took a shaking breath. Dean had been there, he had seen all of that.  
'I forgot to keep fighting, I just couldn't anymore and I did what it wanted. I'm sorry, I really am.'  
She expected him to lecture her but ,instead of that, he deflated beside her. Leaning back on her bead, with his head on the wall, he seemed at a loss for words.   
He looked very young.  
'You don't gotta be sorry for anything. Tem, its not your fault, I just wish we had talked about it. I wish I had known, I can't help you if you don't tell me what the hell is going on. Shit, I've been half blind all year with this. You know how bad that makes me feel?'  
'Yeah.' she nodded, twisting a loose thread on the bed-sheet around her finger.   
'We have to communicate better, ok, from now on. Can you promise me that?'   
She nodded, then raised her tired eyes to him 'I promise.'  
'Good.' he sighed, after a beat he asked again.   
'So, Crowley?'  
'I think I might have tried to kill him. Or fuck him.' she frowned, it was a jumble in her head and she couldn't make sense of it.  
'No wonder he was so scared.' Dean sniggered and crossed his long legs, tucking his hands over his stomach.   
She couldn't remember when they had started being at ease in each others company. When they had started being friends, not just Hunters. Had it been before, or after, he found out about her Wings. Had it been on a job or had it been here, in this Bunker, in their home.  
'I'm just so fucking tired.' she squeezed at her wet hair and lay down against him. He put a careful arm around her shoulders and held her reassuringly.   
'Sleep.' he urged.   
'I'll try.'  
'We can talk more later, ok?'  
'Sure.' she mumbled, eyes sliding closed.

The brothers went Hunting, not to far, they promised to be gone one day at the most.   
It took her all morning and most of the afternoon to work up the courage to speak with Crowley. Her best friend. The guy who had always supported her, advised her, loved her unconditionally. Yes, he had gotten annoyed at her every now and then, yes they disagreed on plenty of things, but she choose him and he choose her. They were looking at eternity together.  
She looked at her phone, sighed, gave in 'Gus.' she said into the receiver.  
He was beside her, in an instant. She dropped the device into her pocket and let him pull her into a hug. 'Why didn't you call me' he hissed in her ear.  
'You brought me to hell, got me to kill things and then had me kidnapped and tortured.' she listed off, extracting herself from his arm to pour a drink.  
'I always show you a good time' he said, flippantly.   
She ignored this and continued. 'However, pretty sure my hair has never looked so nice.'  
'Well living in the back of a van for 10 formative years will do that to you.' he brushed a lock of thick hair off her shoulder and eyed it critically.   
'Death suited you.'  
She knocked back the whiskey, pulled a face. 'Oh god its fucking bourbon' she swallowed painfully.   
He chuckled and snapped his fingers, a bottle of Irish appearing at her elbow. She popped the cap and necked it, shuddering.   
'Thanks. My tolerance must have been seriously lowered.'  
He plucked the bottle from her hands. 'Film?”  
'Gus.' she began to say.  
He shook his head 'I'm sorry too.'  
'I was going to say that I don't want to watch another Meryl Streep one.'

It was easy to be around him, there was no awkward or sympathetic silences. They passed the whiskey back and forth, watching Cool Hand Luke, then The Devil Wears Prada, because he insisted and it was impossible not to give in. She fell asleep on the couch before Anne Hathaway got fashionable and woke up alone, covered in his jacket. She sighed and sat up in the dark.   
She felt old, more broken than she had in years. With a gut churning start she realised that there was no one to put her back together. Constantine was dead. She took out his lighter and looked at it, gold and warm in her palm. She didn't feel up to the task of fixing herself, the Mark was solidly part of her now, if she concentrated she could feel the curse woven into her bones.  
She went to her room, hung up the jacket. Who was she really. Not a woman, not an Angel, not a Demon. She had killed her parents and countless others, she had lost friends, teachers, lovers and the only people who really knew her were two American brothers and the King of Hell.   
It was cold in the Bunker, damp and chilly, her sheets were cold when she slid between them. She thought about dying, about living, she thought about Rosie, Johns daughter, as a little baby and about him happily bouncing her on his knee. She tried to remember the exact feeling of her first hangover, the searing exhaustion of crashing off speed during a winter night in Amsterdam. She recalled the oily pull of silver tequila, straight from the bottle, and the worn burgundy sheets on Papa Midnite's guest bed. Screwing her eyes shut she tired to feel the hair fine pinch of a needle behind her knee, the sandpaper kiss of Constantine's lips on her cheek. She could taste her first coffee, her first panatone, come, cigar smoke, chlorine.  
She looked up at the damp spotted ceiling and tried to remember how to be happy. Tears slid down her cheeks, crawling around her ears to settle on the pillow. She didn't really know what happy was.

A few hundred kilometers away, in a greasy cafe, Sam chewed on a chicken salad, slowly.  
'Look, Dean. I know you missed her and you're worried but, Dean, we cant fix this. Its just gonna take time.'  
Dean pushed his plate away. 'She was never stable.I get that, its just, man. We got her into this, taking the Mark, killing her family! Christ, we did that Sam!'  
'Ok, well, what can we do now? We don't know how to get rid of it and even if we did it wont bring John back to life.' He fished cash out of his pocket and paid the bill.  
'We need to help her, we need to Sam. She's an innocent, its what we do.' Dean opened the car door and put the key in the ignition.  
'Innocent?' Sam fiddled with the radio. 'Would anyone call Tem innocent?'  
'You know what I mean!' Dean growled.   
'I don't think she wants help, not yet. I know she needs it, but.' Sam trailed off.  
'She's stubborn, but she'll accept it from us.' Dean pressed.  
Sam didn't speak for a moment, frowning down at his hands as he puzzled through his throughs in silence. 'Ok, so, how do we help?'  
'I think we need to talk to some Witches, um, some old ones.'  
'No' Sam shook his head, vehemently. 'No way, we can't mess with them!'  
'Well, then we gotta talk to John.' Dean pulled back on to the quiet road. 'He had an idea to get rid of that Mark and he knows her better than anyone.'   
Dean didn't add, but he was sure that his brother was thinking it, John knew her as well as Crowley, at least.   
There were ways to talk to the dead and they knew where he was. He was in Heaven, it wouldn't be hard. Thats what Dean told himself as he got into bed that night, he could do this and he would do this. He had made John a promise, he kept his promises.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean put an arm around her shoulders. 'We'd do anything for you. I'm so sorry we got you so deep into this mess.'  
> She climbed into bed, in his red shirt. 'You didn't. I know that you want to fix me, but I don't need fixing, I just need you to love me.'  
> 'I do.' he muttered, and soon they were asleep....
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING
> 
> Be advised that this chapter references suicide and drug use.

Castiel had been absent for a while, Heaven wasn't running as smoothly as it had been and he hadn't been answering Dean's texts, or prayers. He sent them a message one morning that blew up Dean's plan before it got started. Michael was back and he was running the joint with an iron fist.  
'I had an idea' Dean began, as he drove towards the highway. They had spoken once or twice about the Mark, she had changed the subject each time, but he saw her looking at her arm every now and again, considering it.  
'We just summon John's spirit and ask him what his plan was.'   
Temperance was lounging in the passenger seat, having taken Sam's place on the next Hunt. She looked up from the road map, out to the tarmac, her eyes searching for something not there.  
'I don't know how.' she said, in an even voice. Too even.  
'He's in Heaven, there's gotta be a way to do it, without alerting Michael.' Dean pressed.   
'Yes.' she admitted, after a moment. Dean's heart soared.   
'We can just speak to him, it's easy. We can ask him how to get rid of the Mark.'  
'I' she shook her head. Dean glanced at her, saw that she was fidgeting, scrubbing her hands like she was embarrassed about something.   
'I don't know if there is any getting rid of it. I can feel it inside of me, I can see it when I close my eyes.' her voice was low.   
'But there has to be a way.' his fingers tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles white on the black leather. He had made a dead guy a promise, he had to keep it. He would.

There was a few ways, one she knew would work, but she didn't think she could do it. She was more Demon than Angel now, and Demons could not bare Heaven. If Castiel was still in charge up there she might consider it more seriously. With the Archangel at the helm if was suicidal, and she had already done that once.   
Dean drove them to a motel, it was nicer than most of the dives that they stayed in, more recently built and a little cleaner.  
'So, how do we do it?' he was practically bouncing in his seat on the bed when he asked, his pretty face animated, green eyes bright.   
Her second option was more of a gamble, she wasn't sure if telling him was a good idea, but she couldn't refuse him. She really couldn't, not when he looked so happy.  
'There is a ritual that could, eh, technically, open a portal so we can speak to him. It will be hard to do, maybe a bit nasty.' was it terrible that it soothed her to see him smile like that. He was smiling as if all his birthday's had come at once.   
'Ok, sure. What do we need?'  
'A full moon, a gate and holy land.' she ticked off. 'Oh, and an animal to sacrifice.'  
'What?! I am not gonna kill a goat or whatever Voodoo shit you're talking about.'   
'It can be an insect, like a butterfly, a bird would be better. You open a door to Heaven and make a psychopomp to lead you, but its sort of sacrilegious. Castiel wouldn't approve.'  
She took a deep breath, looking into his eyes, making sure he understood her. It was old Voodoo. the priest who had taught her, Papa Midnite, and advised her against this type of magic. She was too stained by Hell to look through the radiant veil, as he put it.   
'It might not work and it might invite something that we didn't mean to invite through the door.'  
'We can deal with it, we can do it.'   
She didn't argue, she let him take comfort in the knowledge that there was a way, no matter how difficult, and picked up a brochure to find a place to eat.   
He convinced her over dinner, with one look from his puppy dog eyes. Christ, when did she become so pliable, she wondered.  
Holy land didn't necessarily mean a church, or a temple, or a cemetery. Holy land could be anything that was sacred or profane enough to matter to someone, it was land that held power and memory. Dangerous territory for magic.   
The gate was easier, anything was a gate, a crack in a wall, a place where leaves parted, a mirror. She explained this all to Dean as they drove, having dispatched the monster, that called them away from the Bunker, in the night.   
He wasn't a big fan of magic and seemed surprised at the extent of her knowledge of it.   
'How long did you study this stuff?'  
'Not long, Papa Midnite was a bit of a tyrant really, a strict educator. He taught me while I was working in one of his casinos, he was a little relieved when I wasn't much good at it. Thought I was powerful enough already, and he was only teaching me to annoy Constantine.' she smiled at the memory.  
'He wasn't wrong about the power thing.' Dean mused.   
They were driving towards an old pilgrim settlement, Temperance had seen it on the map and reckoned it would suit their needs. The full moon would, handily, fall that night and Dean didn't want to wait a month for the next one.  
'What happened to this Papa guy?'  
'Oh, a Hunter killed him, a few years back.'  
'Ouch.' he winced.  
'So, we need an animal, an insect?'  
'Preferably something with wings.' She said, sighing. 'I'm not mad about the idea of killing a little birdie.'  
'Softie.' he mocked. 'You eat meat!'  
It was a recent enough thing, in all fairness, she had only started eating meat after leaving Ireland, Cain had been a strict vegetarian.   
'Jesus, you sound like Gus. I don't want to eat a Robin, ok! They probably don't taste nice and, well, they're fucking cute.'  
'You're the worst Demon ever, you know?' he laughed, and Temperance saw that he was a little shocked at himself. It was the first time he made a joke about what she was.   
They left the car in an empty lot and walked out into the woods. Dean bent down suddenly, cupping his hands. 'Got a moth!'  
He opened his fingers slightly so she could see it, beige wings fluttering against his palms.  
'Perfect' she liked his enthusiasm, it made her feel normal.   
She had mixed feelings about seeing John, about maybe seeing John. He had died because of her, a senseless death. The greatest of mage from a line of great occultists, a man feared by Hell and feared on Earth. She had taken him away from humanity, she had let him die.   
The forest wasn't vast, it was centred around a small hill, the base of which they reached after half an hour's slow hike. There was a shallow cave, a sort of overhang, that would work as a gate for the spell, now all they had to do was wait for the sun to set.   
'This works by making a path from the land of the dead, through the land of dreams. Its old magic and it might not work.'  
'Hey, we will give it a shot.' Dean shrugged, he was looking at the moth in his hand, holding it carefully.   
When the last rays of light flittered out of the woods they began. The spell seemed to fill their doorway with an oily yellow smog that rippled from a pinpoint towards the edges of the rock that held it in check, a nod from Temperance and Dean opened his hands, releasing the moth. It was drawn into the gently swirling vortex, fluttering on its tiny wings.   
It stuck there, as if in a web, Temperance didn't like how it fluttered in agitation, trying to pull away. That was the problem with this type of magic, it was grotesque, it touched the twilight power of fairies and things that came out in the dark, it cut a road through the realm of Dreams where the rules were different.   
She set her mouth and spoke the ritual, at her words the smog became a glittering light, bursting out explosively, only to suddenly fade. The rock seemed to have transformed into a path down a long dark tunnel. The moth fluttered there, flying away from them.  
'John Constantine.' Temperance said with some trepidation.   
'I need to speak with you.'

Nothing happened.   
Dean took a hesitant step forward, squinting into the gate. 'So, bust?'  
She felt a little pull, like a breeze being sucked into the gate was buffeting against them. A figure appeared, indistinct at first, but rapidly solidifying. It towered, limping towards them.  
She gasped as Dean jumped back, spoke a command to shut the tunnel off, leaving the ordinary rock once more. Ending the spell with a dreadful finality.   
'What was that?'  
'Golem.' She said. The magic had called something else from the murky place between reality, she had been worried about that.  
Dean looked devastated and she hastened to reassure him.  
'It's ok, I told you sometimes it doesn't work.'  
'Can it get out?' He asked, putting a hand on his knife hilt.  
'No.'  
They turned to leave, but at that moment a real wind did suddenly howl through the trees and an unnatural storm battered them down to the ground. 

A horrible, erie shriek seemed to be borne along the gale, Dean threw out a hand, latching onto Temperance as they were picked up and slammed into the boulders. Dean saw her head bounce off the ground and she lay very still. Lightening flashed around them and thunder roared in his ears.  
'Temperance!'   
The wind died down, as suddenly as it had begun, but a torrent of rain plunged the dark woods around them into chaos. The rain was so heavy he could barely breath, it was like they were underwater.  
Dean shook her shoulder, leaning over her to keep the rain off her face. She was limp against the hill, eyes closed. He hurried to check her pulse, it was steady, he tried to shout her awake but she remained stubbornly unconscious.   
'Shit!'  
'Hunter.'  
He spun, an old, old, woman was looking at him from the mouth of a cave that had simply not been there before he looked. A warm light spilled out around the figure, woodsmoke from a fire tickled his nostrils.   
'Bring her inside.' the woman said, crooking a finger to call him in.  
He scooped Temperance into his arms, his nerves on high alert. 'Who are you?'  
Temperance was light in his arms, he could feel her heart beating under his hand and her hair had come undone, falling down around her face.  
'Put her down near the fire, lets warm her up and see if she wakes.' The woman had a cap of white hair, thin enough that Dean could see her scalp beneath it. She was bony and frail, her skin sagging on her frame and she was wearing a rough spun coat over a filthy shift. She snapped her fingers at him.   
'By the fire, Hunter, come now.' she said, a little impatiently.  
He did as she asked, his head ringing from the echoing snap of her fingers, the command in her tone.   
'What?” he began, weakly, shaking his head against something. Was it magic, was this real, he couldn't tell. He wondered if he was dreaming.   
'Your spell called out to me.' She said, tucking a blanket, that looked as old as herself, around Temperance. Droplets of rain glistened on her bare throat in the flickering light.  
Dean shuddered, edging closer to the fire, the warmth was grounding and he felt a chill rising in his bones now that he was out of that rain.  
'Can you help us? We were trying to talk to someone, a soul, a dead guy.' If the magic called her maybe she was a reaper, or something like one, he reasoned.  
'I could summon a soul.' She nodded, shuffling around on battered feet.   
'From Hell, easy, from Heaven, not so easy.'  
'He's in Heaven, he's got to be. His names John Constantine.'  
The woman looked down at the Temperance, she put a thoughtful hand to her breast, as if to check her breathing. 'I will try, but I want something in return.' she said, at length  
'What? Money?'  
'No, foolish son. In return I want a thought, a dream.'  
'Em, ok?' He felt something tighten in his throat and he sat down, dizzily. The woman, the creature, no way she was human, nodded to herself and closed her eyes.  
She was silent for a long time, long enough for Dean to dose off. He woke with a start as a shimmering light flickered over his eyelids. Before the old woman a pulsing orb grew and grew, taking shape until a shimmering copy of a man was standing before them.   
'What the bloody fuck was tha?'  
'John!' Dean laughed, leaping to his feet. 'I can't believe it!.'  
'I were dead, thank you very much, happy out.' he snorted, then his eyes landed on Temperance, and his attitude shifted.  
'What happened?' his voice laced with worry.  
'The Mark, we need to get rid of it.'  
The ghost bent down, pale fingers passing through her own. 'Oh my love, what a mess.' he muttered, then he frowned up at Dean.  
'Thing is I cant remember what my plan were. There is a spell to do it, a type of sacrifice really, its written down in the Book of the Damned but I've no clue where it is.'  
'I can help you find it.' The old woman offered, she knotted her long fingers together, her knuckles were thick and blue, her fingers curved around each other with painful looking bend. She was looking at the ghost with pale, rheumy eyes, half hidden by folds of skin, that Dean wasn't sure if she could see.  
John seemed to notice her for the first time and he scowled 'You're not a Witch.' he said. 'You're not ever real.'  
'Real enough, John Constantine.'  
'What did you ask her for?' He hissed at Dean, trying to grab him with ghostly fingers.  
'Uh, to bring you here so we could talk.' he put a hand to his head, he couldn't keep up with what his eyes were seeing. It was like something had come loose inside his head, it was too hazy, too senseless.  
'I think.'  
'That was what you asked of me, and in return I asked for a thought.' she agreed.  
John groaned. 'Dean!'  
'Come here, Hunter.' she opened her ancient hands and settled them on Dean's temples. Something swooped through him, he felt she could see everything about him, he was more naked than mere nudity could convey. Under her gaze he wilted. He found himself thinking of his father and all the pain, disappointment, love and fear that went with that.   
'Ah!' she said, nodding and releasing him. 'Yes, that will do.'  
'What?” he touched his head, uncertainly, he could still think, he could still remember, she hadn't taken anything from him.  
'Don't ask.' The ghost muttered. 'You made a deal with her, she brought me here and you gave her thoughts to add to her dreams.'  
'Her what?' Dean's head was ringing, he raised his own fingers to where the woman's had been.  
'I am willing to do more, you wish to understand the Mark of Cain, you wish to help her remove it?'   
'Yeah, but I'm not making a deal with you and I'm not setting a price, s'not worth it.' John turned back to Temperance, crouching down.  
'What is she?' Dean asked, the question had been on his tongue for so long, why didn't he ask it before, he felt like he was slipping between being awake and being asleep, he was struggling to keep to his feet.  
'She's not real is what she is!' The ghost scowled. 'She's not supposed to be in this realm, she belongs in the Dreaming.'  
'I was called. They made a spell for a path and one opened, they tried to summon a psychopomp and I came forth. It was old magic, false magic. You are in my realm now.' her voice had an ancient rattle to it.  
'Bollox!' John swore under his breath, looking around the cave as if for answers, he spun back to face the dream woman. 'What do you get out of it? If we ask you to help?'  
'Relief from boredom, interaction with the living, new feelings to add to the Dreams. Most of all I get to assist the human sons and daughters of Adam.' She bent her head on her thin and brittle looking neck to look at Temperance.   
'I knew Adam's first born, Cain, I'd know his blood anywhere and she smells like it. Though she is not of his line.'  
Dean jumped on that slim hope. 'You knew Cain? So you know about the Mark? The Mark of Cain?'  
Her ancient head wobbled. 'No, only the pain with which he bore it. I know the Book this ghost speaks of and yes, it supposedly has a spell to remove the Mark.'  
Dean felt a great swooping relief. 'So you can help? You will help?”  
She considered him, then spent a moment stroking Temperance cheek. 'To find the Book of the Damned would take great power. I should require more than one thought to do it.' her voice seemed to rattle from a great depth. She kept her eyes on Temperance, who looked untroubled in her sleep.  
'Her mind is not mortal, it is a rich delight. I will send you through her mind and you will caress her memory in my stead, then perhaps we can work together to find the path that you need to follow if you want to rip away that curse.'   
'Some sort of memory spell?' John looked grave, he was dead, of course he did. Dean couldn't keep up wth what was happening, he wasn't sure the woman, the thing, had agreed to help them or not. They needed to find a book, he knew that much.  
'Tempy didn't know how to get rid of it, she wont have a memory of the Book.' John continued.  
'Not a spell, little mage. It is a thing of Dreams, that we may know your mind and memory and use it to construct the visions that living things have in my realm.' she ran a grey tongue over her mouldy teeth. Dean shuddered, his head was aching and he didn't know if he could keep up with this.  
'You want Tempy's memories to make more convincing dreams?' John sounded scornful.  
'Yes, it will be my price. I wish to know about the last daughter of Cain, the true child of the line of Adam. You shall be my eyes and walk through her experiences and then I will grant you a boon.'  
Dean shrugged. 'Alright, Ill do it.' The ancient creature's face split into a frightening smile.  
'Dean! What did I just say about making deals!' John was furious.  
'She can help us. Thats all that matters right now.'  
She made him to lie down on the moss and turned to John 'And you mage?'  
John was frowning, his thumb to his lips. He walked slowly, as if it was against his better judgement, casting furtive glances at the unconscious figure of Temperance.   
'Dunno bout this.' he muttered as he lay down, shoulder to shoulder with Dean.  
The woman began to waft smoke over all three of them, chanting in a voice that was ten thousand years older than she was.   
Dean felt himself drifting to sleep, then, suddenly, he slammed feet first into a flower filled garden. He could smell summer in the air and hear the drone of insects nearby. 

'Wha?' he began, whipping his head round, John was beside him, looking just as confused. He touched a nearby flower, his finger passing through it like light through glass.  
'It's a memory' he explained.   
A door clattered open, a small child, a girl, with long dark hair hurrying out with a bundle in her arms, followed by a man they both knew well.  
'Cain' breathed Dean. He felt no fear, he felt happy, he felt elated. That was wrong.  
The memory of Cain seemed to enjoy the sunshine a moment before calling to the child  
'Temperance! Careful!' she had put down the bundle, a picnic blanket and a mound of books. Cain spread the rug out, twitching it away from young plant shoots and setting her in the middle. The child that would grow into Temperance squinted, shrewdly and pulled a book out. Cain ruffled her hair fondly and began to read. 

The scene changed, dissolving. Night closed in around them, tarmac beneath their feet. Dean felt more afraid than he ever had before and his heart was stuttering against his ribs. A girl was crying out. 'No!'   
She was dragging herself back, it was Temperance not much older than in the last memory, 7 or 8 at most. A bloodied monster stalked her, long claws dripping and trailing twisted lengths of flesh. Tear tracks had etched into her still chubby cheeks.   
With a rising horror Dean realised why she was crawling along the ground, the flesh and blood was her own, the ruin of her leg hampering her.   
'Dad!' she called out.  
Dean was frozen with fear, fear that was not his own. He looked around wildly for someway to help until John spoke, gently.   
'Its a memory mate, its already happened.'  
Cain was standing still in the shadows, not moving, not lifting a finger to help. The creature bent over her, Dean saw her small fingers fumble on the hilt of the knife, her pathetic blow glancing off claws. He wanted to look away.   
'Fuck me.' muttered John.  
The child turned her face away and they felt the atmosphere change, like a charge had been passed through the air, she opened her eyes, black and demonic and her hand shot through its chest, delving, crushing, killing. It fell in a heap on her injured leg and she cried out. Cain strode forward them, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her up.   
'What did you do!' he roared in her pale face, on his arm, something glittered with a fiery light. The Mark.

Dean couldn't process it, it was like he and the ghost were falling, he lashed out, desperate to try and slow the descent, a rush of something buffeted him this way and that and with a crash of sound and light and feeling he was sitting on a bed, in a room he thought he knew.   
She was sewing her arm back together, hands shaking and making the line clumsy, Dean felt the prick and pull of it, as if it was his own skin. Cain took the needle from her and showed her what to do.  
'Its alright, its just a little pain.' he spoke kindly.  
'I could heal it'  
'No' he shook his head 'That type of power is not allowed in our house.'  
'What about the other?' her face turned away, her eyes down on the wound.  
He taped a bandage down over the stitches, kissed it. 'It is just as bad in some ways.' He cupped her cheek.   
'Show me'  
Dean leapt up, floundering though the ghost as her eyes burned bright, the great clamoring sound of wings filled the small space, he felt a burning pain in his heart, an ache that began in his spine and ricocheted around his skull.   
'It hurts more.'her voice tiny and frail.  
'That side of your nature will always seek to destroy the other.' Cain explained 'Righteous power, you must lock them both away. You must be human darling daughter.'  
'Mam says that I can be anything I want.'  
He smiled 'Yes, she would say that. Come on, get to bed, its not everyday a little girl turns ten and you have lots of things to do tomorrow.' He kissed her head, tucking her into the narrow bed.   
Dean felt a warm contentment wash through him, then it drifted away and the world changed again.

A young teenager was sitting on a low wall. She was wearing a school uniform, a navy pleated skirt and jumper over a white blouse and knee socks. A bulky cello case was resting beside her, and a boy of her age was fumbling in his bag for something.   
'Who's tha?' John snorted bending down to scowl at the memory.  
'She's a kid!' Dean pointed out with a roll of his eyes. Though he felt a swoosh of anticipation, a little flutter of embarrassment on her behalf.   
He could feel what she was feeling, to a degree. He knew the old woman in the cave must be feeling this too. That was why she had sent him and John into Temperance's head.  
The boy produced a plastic wrist band, a band logo dangling from it, blushing he clasped it to her wrist and bent in quickly to kiss the corner of her surprised mouth.   
'Temperance!' Cain called, a burgundy ford angelica pulled up to the curb. Fear. Metal tasting, sudden. Fear.  
She jumped, grabbed her instrument and hurried to put it in the back, the car wobbled as Cain got out. Dean's fear spiked as he rounded the vehicle to stand at the passenger side.  
Cain was tall, Dean felt tiny. Or rather Temperance did, her dad tapped the back of her hand with a firm finger, there was the smallest flash of light at that, like a spark from a welding iron.  
'Ah!' she gasped, blood began to blossom in her nail beds, drip from her nose. Cain didn't speak, he just watched, it seemed to last forever, until she let out a painful sound, a choked sob as she fought for breath against her own blood. He nodded, the spell, whatever it was, breaking and she slumped, weeping quietly as he opened the car door and helped her in.

The air shimmered Dean and John were wrenched aside with the force of a new memory. Temperance couldn't be much older, she had a teenage glower that made Dean think she must only be 16. He had been good at that look when he was 16, though Sam had been better.  
He glanced at John who was frowning thoughtfully. 'This is weird,' the dead man said. 'Feels a bit pervy to be watching.'  
She was climbing through her window, carefully, the air of cheap booze and cigarettes in her shifty movements. Dean couldn't help but notice how battered she looked, her elbows were scraped and bruised and there were already a few notable scars on her hands.   
As she put her foot down the light flickered on. Cain was sitting in her rocking chair looking straight into her eyes. 'Well?' he asked.  
She dropped her head. Dean could feel her resignation, it was awful, she wasn't afraid of the pain anymore, she had accepted it.  
'I went to a party.' Her voice was low, filled with loathing, with despair. It all crowded forward in Deans head. He could feel how much she despised herself and it floored him.  
'Jesus.' he shook his head, trying to make sense of it.   
'I gathered.' Cain's was voice coarse. 'What did you do?'  
She looked up, pale, eyes wide. 'Nothing! Had a drink, a cigarette!'  
'Temperance.' he stood, tall and somber. A judge ready to dole out punishment.  
'No!' she shook her head, scrambling back. 'Dad, please!'   
Fear was back, a new fear, she knew this one would be bad, Dean felt his heart rate increase to match hers.  
The ghost of John Constantine turned away, pressing chapped hand to his mouth. Dean wanted to look away too, but he couldn't. He was drowning with her.  
Cain clicked his fingers and a blue light, like lightening wrapped barbed wire, had coiled around his hand. 'Give me your arm.'  
She shrank back, shaking her head, wide eyes darting around the room. Dean knew that look, that caged look and he forced himself to watch it all. Cain pried her hands from behind her back and took her left arm in his glowing fist.   
Dean had always wondered about what caused those scars, the white pattern like the marks left by lightening.   
'When will you understand.' Cain whispered harshly as she writhed beneath him.   
She let out a scream, that rattled the windows in the memory. The edges of everything went dark, and Dean bent forward, pain lancing through his arm, climbing to his chest. It was like being electrocuted, it was like being burned alive, it was acid on his skin.   
'You are not fit for their society, you are an abomination and affront to nature itself!' Cain didn't raise his voice, which somehow made it worse.   
In the memory, crisp and clear, they could smell the singed cloth and hair, the charing flesh.  
John's mouth was a grim line. After an age Cain left and Temperance lay slumped by the wall, having screamed herself bloody and hoarse. She managed to get up, managed to get to the chipped yellow basin and bathe her arm and face. She looked in the mirror, the end of her plait still smoking. Her left side, from brow to fingertip, was horrifically burned, blistered and raw. Dean felt something new over the pain, hatred, and not for Cain.  
With a noise of disgust she closed her eyes, hands clenching on the sink. The skin on her face healed, flesh scaring over and those scars fading away. The marks seemed to recede slowly, working back from her eye, over her cheek, down her jaw. She stopped with a gasp, eyes slitted and black, quickly turning back to grey. She sighed. The sound echoed like wind through a tunnel. The scars left behind were faint, silvery, Dean knew them. John knew them better.

Everything melted, like wax, as the memory swam out of focus and changed.   
'How much are we gonna see?' Dean asked, turning to look at the ghost.  
'Not much more, I hope, this is 'orrible.'  
Walking on sure feet, her hair short, and her eyes rimmed with smudged kohl, she hopped a chainlink fence with impressive agility and marched into a warehouse. Around her teenagers were spraying tags on the walls, someone had lit a fire in a barrel and a few surly looking guys were diligently checking over their skateboard.   
She looked around, lost, alone but not afraid, Dean felt courage welling inside of him, a sort of blissful release. She felt free.  
Temperance dropped her bag into a corner, turning her back to the others she took out a knife and raised her right arm. The ward she carved there, not shedding a tear, was shockingly complex under all the blood. Dean barely felt the sting of it.  
'I always wondered.' murmured an awestruck John. 'Thats why Cain never went lookin' cuz he couldn't find her by magic.'  
'Thats what it does?' Dean asked.  
John nodded, sadly. 'Not the type of thing to be played with, it can stop good spells too and she was already well protected by plenty of Cain's wards.'  
Dean felt a strange tingle running through him. She was almost happy. The pain on her arm was nothing. The memory of Temperance found her corner, that was her corner, she had this corner. Happiness, freedom, all these new things.  
Dean watched her still face, she had that mask longer than he would have imagined, he was trapped in the roaring chaos of her feelings, but that face gave nothing away. 

Dean blinked and beneath their feet the warped boards became industrial carpet, old and stained. A smell of rising damp and mildew made him gag a little. There was a window, grey with dirt, that filtered street light into the otherwise dim room. She was alone, older now, an adult, wearing her black jeans and shirt and a fairly battered pair of old Doc Martins.  
Despair, it came up so fast that he grunted and had to put his head in his hands, to remind himself it wasn't real, it wasn't his feeling.  
Temperance was kneeling on the ground tying a tourniquet around her arm, tightening it with her teeth. A feeling, a single-mindedness that numbed everything, something akin to excitement, panic, something that made Dean shiver, was consuming her in that moment.   
'Is she?” Dean started forward, his hands flailing through her as if through water.   
John grunted. All they could do was watch as she, tried, to overdose. Thick tears dripping down her thin cheeks. She slumped against the dirty wall and as her eyes fluttered closed. A beat, then her whole body shuddered, rising violently off the ground before slamming down into the damp carpet.   
She gasped, retching, nose and ears streaming blood. Her eyes were black, bloody tears leaking out. She brought her knees up to her chest and began, in earnest, to cry. Great rocking sobs that seemed to tear her throat out.  
Dean's heart was racing, knocking as if to burst out of his chest, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't think. He couldn't process what was going on.  
Without a sound a man was blocking his view of Temperance trembling form.   
'Darling?' Crowley had appeared, on one knee at her side. He held out a hand which she groped blindly for. He pulled her to his chest and held her, quite tenderly.   
'I don't want to see anymore.' Dean said, shaking his head. 'I don't want to feel this.'  
'Its the old bints terms.' John said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. 'We 'ave to.'

The ceiling above them bled away to become a night sky. John, a younger John, was bleeding on her fist. 'You fucking stabbed me!'   
The knife in her hand was bloody and the memory of John pressed his fingers to his side, muttering an incantation. That seemed to confuse her and she pulled back warily.   
'You're a Witch?'  
'Mage, and world class exorcist.' he held out a hand, she didn't take it.   
'John Constantine at your service.' His face fell a little when she didn't react.   
Dean chuckled as the ghost groaned, they could both feel how utterly unimpressed she was.  
Temperance had sheathed her knife and turned to walk away. A flash of irritation visible in the set of her mouth, but that was quickly hidden away.  
''Ere, hold on!' The memory spoke.   
She didn't stop, ducking through brambles she hurried out onto a cobbled street. John followed her, cursing as a thorn snagged his coat.  
'Hey!' a voice called and she raised a hand to wave, hurrying across the road to an old brown van, three visibly drunk young men were leaning against its dented panels.   
John was puffing to catch up. She fished the car keys from her pocket and climbed in the drivers door. Dean smiled at the fluffy dice hanging from the mirror.   
A surge of feeling burst out, freedom, she liked this van, she liked these people.  
'Whats your name, love?' John asked, hand on the window to stop her winding it up. She put the van in gear, while a long haired guy in a stripy t-shirt opened the sliding door and shouted, as they drove off.  
'Its a virtue!'   
The ghost beside him was smiling, Dean looked away, it felt wrong to invade this, this stuff had to be private.  
The night shimmered around them, dissolving in a haze of rain.

Dean could smell meat roasting and a table seemed to pop up out of nowhere. They were in a narrow kitchen. Temperance had a toddler on her back, the girls hair was braided into a complex spiral and tied with dozens of fuzzy ribbons.   
'Rosie, poise, pudding and pie!' John rounded the corner, plucked the child from her seat and tossed her, not high, into the air.   
Dean caught the flicker of Temperance's amusement at that over a bright delight and a pang of hunger. She bent to check the oven. 'How long did Birdie say?' she asked.  
'Wrong person to ask, love.' John kissed her cheek, child on his hip. The ghost chuckled, bending to look at himself and the girl.  
'Its my daughter.' He said to Dean, beaming. 'She's a looker, like her dad in that regard!'  
'You have a kid?.' Dean couldn't begin to imagine John as a father.   
'Yeah, lovely little girl. Hooked up with a gorgeous bird, and had a happy accident. We was on good terms, her mother and me, friends like.' he was lost in contemplation, seeing his baby daughter in his arms.  
Temperance was opening a cabinet, a bottle tumbled out and hit her on the chest. The stopper spun off as she made a grab for it, falling with a click on the tiles, she hissed in pain as its contents splashed her. It was full of clear liquid, not water judging by the circle of red skin burned into her hand.   
A dark, deep, displeasure crashed through her amusement, the contented feeling being leeched away. Dean felt a rising hatred in his gut and squinted at the the bottle.  
'Holy water.' the ghost explained as Temperance shoved it away and went back to the roasting pan with a glowering flash of black eyes and seething anger.   
Dean watched her try to calm down, as the child spluttered nonsense with her father in a room beyond them. She looked down at her hands, took several breaths, as quickly as the anger had come it faded and she bounced back to her task with a forced smile.   
He didn't know she could make herself fell nothing, but thats what it was, an absence, a removal. Shit, it was depression, it was her base line.   
Rain fell, washing away the kitchen like water mixing with oil. Colour swirled and settled and a street bloomed into view.  
Temperance was alone, it was raining heavily now and she stood in the narrow street palming her keys. She looked devastated, John winced, turned his face away for a moment. They followed her up the stairs into her apartment. Dean had seen this place once before, though it was half demolished by then.   
She looked at the plants on the window sill, water logged and sad then sat on her one chair in silence, they could hear the rain, distant traffic, neighbors, but she barely breathed. Naked pain was etched into her face and Dean shuddered at the crawling feeling under his skin as he got a blast of her emotions.  
Slowly she took off her wet clothes, slowly she walked to the tiny bathroom and climbed into the tub. Fresh wounds stood out on her arms, at the cook of her elbows. They both could hear the sobs over the groaning pipes, the sound of fists striking tiles.   
'Fuck, I know when this were.' John murmured.  
'What?'  
He grunted, making a slashing motion over his wrists and looking at his own dead feet. 'She were in a bad place, Chas died and she blamed herself, her friends went back home to Europe and well, yeah. She aid it all got a bit much.'  
The world shimmered around them once more, pulling them deeper into a new memory.

Temperance was sitting on a bed, getting dressed. A woman, half asleep emerged from the duvet and mumbled something, Temperance bent down to kiss her and quickly, quietly, left the room. The stairs was narrow and emerged onto a quiet, deathly cold canal street.   
Dean could feel a little flutter of post-coital bliss and flushed.  
'Cutting out before breakfast?' Crowley was suddenly beside her, holding an umbrella against the drizzle.  
She put her hands in her pockets. 'Constantine left me.'  
'I know.' he led her to bench, rummaged in his pockets for a flask and offered it to her. 'Why do you always come back here? Surely you've been to every grotty bar in this city?'  
'I like the Dutch' she shrugged, tasting whatever it was he hd offered. 'And the chips.'  
'And the genièvre?” he asked with a knowing smile.  
'And the pills.' she smiled, passing the flask back. Dean felt dull, cut off from her emotions, there was a numbing sensation in the back of his head that he couldn't pinpoint.  
'I need your help.' Crowley said, looking around, shiftily.  
'Sure.'  
'Don't you want to know what about?'  
'I'd do anything for you.' Dean felt the truth of that, he knew then the comfort she had in his presence, the wonderful familiarity. The love. It all seemed faded though, like she wasn't really feeling it at all.  
'You know how much that worries me?' he was looking at his phone, reading something, he slid this into an inner pocket.   
'Got a guy in Alsace, has an interesting stone. I cant touch it though, but I need it.'  
'Lets go.' her voice light, Dean might think she was happy, if not for the weight of the strange sensation on his chest.  
'Darling, don't you want to know what it is, why I need it?'  
She spun around and kissed his cheek. 'Is it for something terribly bold and bad and wrong and evil and all that?'  
'Maybe.' he let her take the umbrella and walked with an arm looped through hers.  
'Would not having it put you in a worse place than you currently are?'  
He seemed to consider this a few moments and shook his head. 'No.'  
'But you want it?' she pressed.  
'It would give me a lot more power and piss off a few Hunters. Two to be specific.'  
'Ok, I'll bite, what is it?'  
'Its a prophecy, a tablet as old as time itself.'   
Dean snarled at the shifty movement Crowley made, rolling his shoulders up over his ears. Clearly he didn't want her to ask too much.   
This guy, why the hell did she like him! He shook his head, the ghost of John Constantine smirked at him.   
'Oh shut up!' Dean muttered, before he could say anything.  
'Sounds boring.' Temperance had stopped in the middle of a narrow bridge, a few cyclists passed in the gloom. Her eyes were filled with a sudden longing, which Dean felt more sharply then the previous emotions. She was looking down at the water, wanting it and Crowley pulled her back.  
'One day I wont be here to stop you!' he sounded quite angry. 'The self destruction is getting a bit much.'  
'Well lets go get your rock.' she said, hands in her pockets.  
'No.' he shook his head, pushing her away. 'I shouldn't have asked. Go to bed, I'll see you for breakfast.'  
'Gus!' but he was gone, she shifted the umbrella and turned her face to the sky, letting the rain coat her skin. She breathed out and went on her way. The world spun, lights flared.

Dean registered the off tempo beat of his heart and put a hand to his chest, he felt strange, he felt good, fluttery and loose and horny all at once. Grunting he tried to push Temperance's emotion aside, getting a boner in another persons head felt dirty.   
Temperance was dancing, lights strobing in time with a throbbing junkie beat. Dean recognised it as The Prodigy. He knew she liked to play that band when she was in the shower.   
She had glitter in her hair, eyeliner smudged around her eyes and she was smiling, in a drippy, stoned way. The high wasn't as intense as Dean thought, he got an edge of it. She was happy, content, feeling really good in her skin and the music was the right kind for dancing to.  
Crowley appeared again, his immaculately black suit out of place with the sweat and sex smell of the club. 'Temperance.' he took her elbow. She squealed and wrapped her arms around him.  
'Hey!' she shouted over the music. He led her to a small, grotty smoking area, sat her on an upturned barrel.  
'I need a favour.' He frowned suddenly and titled her head back. 'What did you take?”   
'Ket, MDMA. Booze.' she had wide staring eyes now, her jaw clenching and unclenching. A chill began to build, everything was very quickly not perfect and she wanted to pout and find a nice warm body to lay with.   
Dean shuddered with her.  
'Are you feeling this too?” He asked the ghost, who nodded, glumly.  
'Darling.' Crowley sighed, stroking her hand.  
'I need your help, I've a pair of Hunters in need of a Witch and I can't trust anyone else with it.'  
She nodded, swaying slightly, eyes intent on something just between them. 'Okie Poke.'  
Dean remembered her like this, this was how they met. Crowley would transport her to the States, to him. He saw the Demon take her hand and the thumping sounds of of the music faded away.

Dean was suddenly looking at himself, he was looking at himself in a cheap motel room. He, the memory of him, was stripping down his sawn-off shotgun and carefully cleaning it out. Sam was on the bed behind him, laptop open.  
He felt a stab of pride, of affection, and he looked around. Temperance was sitting on the floor, she was holding her hands loosely in her lap, just looking at the pair in front of her.  
Love. It was love.  
Dean gasped, reeling back. She was looking at him and his brother, she loved them. There was a flicker of something else though, like love, but painful. Grief. She was spinning a clunky gold ring on her finger.  
'Oh.' John sank to his knees, looking at her. 'This were after I died then.'  
'Hey.' the dream Sam raised his head. 'Got a hit.'  
'Sweet.' the memory Dean packed his gun oil away. 'Where to?'  
'Nebraska.' Sam answered.  
'Oh yeah, this was a job with a sentient house, just before, uh. Before she killed Cain.' Dean recalled now.   
He watched himself as the memory stood, offered a hand to Temperance and pulled her up. Strange to feel reassurance from his won touch.  
'Wanna get going or stay here tonight?'  
She didn't smile, her mask was on, but now Dean could feel what she was feeling. She was sad, mind meltingly sad and there was a pulse of anger that shot out of nowhere, but she battened it down and asked.  
'If we go now do I get to drive?'  
'No way, my baby aint some hussy to be passed around.' the memory Dean spoke, and the real Dean felt a surge of her affection for him.  
'If I buy you a beer and we go tomorrow do I get to drive?'

Dean heard himself laugh but before he could voice any questions something slammed into his gut, ripping him out of himself, they were floating in a void.  
'Shit. That was weird.' he hissed, his mind seemed to flood back to him, the residue of Temperance's feelings washed suddenly away.   
'I never realised.' John began to say, then he shook his head, closing his eyes.  
'That she didn't have it exactly easy?' dean asked, his head was ringing.  
'She wont thank you for knowing any of this.' The ghost sniffed, wiping his hands down his front.  
'I don't get it, why did we see all that?'  
'It was part of that creatures price, fuck knows why she wanted those memories in particular. Make sure you get something from her when you wake up mate.' John was looking less substantial, the colour leaching from his ghostly skin.   
'Has Crowley really has known her that long and ain't never used her? Put her in danger?'  
John smirked up at the younger man. 'He loves her, 'ow could he hurt her?'  
'He wanted her help with the Angel tablet, then just changed his mind! Why?'   
It didn't make any sense. If he had got Temperance in on that then all the shit after never would have happened, Crowley would have won.   
John tried to drop a hand on Deans arm, but it went right through. 'Listen, you've got eyes mate. You know how he feels about her. Not to different to how you do in some ways.' a sly smirk graced his dead face and Dean blushed.  
'You, uh, I mean, is there anything you want me to tell her?'  
He smiled, it wiped years from him, and spread out his arms. 'She knows it all. You just tell her I'll be waitin' for 'er, at the end of all things.'  
Dean woke on the moss, feeling exhausted beyond measure. The woman, the thing, ignored him and brushed Temperances hair out with an ivory comb while humming something at a pitch Dean could feel in his bones.   
He wanted to sit up, but he couldn't move, he was stuck, he was frozen.  
Temperance began to wake, little muscles twitching, eyes moving under their lids. Dean tried to speak but he felt everything solidify around him and his voice got stuck in his throat.  
Groaning Temperance sat up. 'Ow.'   
'Easy, daughter,'   
Her eyes widened at the sight of the woman. 'Virgin.'  
The woman nodded, gums wide in a smile. 'Child of the line of my husband, daughter of Cain, son of Adam who was thrice wed and thrice cursed.'  
Temperance seemed to notice the cave around her, warm and bright, she narrowed her eyes and said. 'Whats going on?'  
'You were injured in the storm, but your Hunter was here to help you.'  
Temperance made to look around but the Virgin stopped her with a firm, withered, hand on her cheek.  
'I was without anyone, God made me and cast me out, I wandered the waste for millennia, but you have people, who you love. Many people.' her rheumy eyes intense.   
'Ok?' Temperance put her hand on the creatures wrist, not to hurt her, to coax her to move away. She hadn't been able to turn around, if she could she would see him, Dean.  
He tried to call, tried to shout through what ever magic was holding him down.  
'Why should you have love? You are an affront to god, Demon, Angel, raised by the first son, the father of murder, the first soul of Hell.' her long ragged nails sank into Temperances cheeks, her teeth gnashing in a foaming red mouth. 'Tell me I am wrong?'  
Dean struggled harder, but nothing moved, his voice was gone, his body was frozen. He had to move, he had to help.  
'You're not wrong.' Temperance agreed, not seeming to care about the pain.  
'Thrice damned.' the Virgin crooned, blood dripping down her fingers. She pulled her hands away.   
'I give you a gift, darling abomination, you may ask me anything, ask of me any request, and I will oblige.'  
Temperance looked down at her lap 'Can you take the Mark off me?'  
'No, it is beyond my power, but I can tell you where to look. The Book of the Damned, sweet child, holds a spell. Look for it in a time and place beyond this.' and without another word she swiftly stepped backwards into nothingness and vanished.

Around her time sped up and Dean seemed to unfreeze from the ground 'Where did she go? Shit!' Dean struggled up, wild eyed.  
'It's ok. The Virgin's gone.' Temperance dusted herself down  
'She didn't pay up! She played us!'  
'Pay up?'  
'She said she would help us out the with Mark if we let her learn about you!.'  
'Feck-sake! Dean Winchester, don't make fucking deals with things like her!' she growled, angrily.  
Temperance led them out of the cave, with a stomping anger. Somehow it was not really a cave anymore, it was more of a depression, a space beneath an overhang of rocks and the wild storm had turned into plain clear night. It was nearing the morning.  
'Tem. She brought John to me, to talk with.' Dean began, worried  
Temperance froze, spinning on heel so quickly that Dean almost walked into her.   
'He was here, Constantine was here? You spoke to him?'  
'He didn't like her, said she was bad news.'  
'He was right, the Virgin is a tricky type of monster.'  
'The what? Virgin?' they were near the parking lot now.  
'The second wife of Adam, who was made from nothing as was he. Cast out of Eden and left to wander the waste of creation. Shit life. Eternal Virgin, without a name of her own.'  
'Adam had more than one wife?' Dean opened the car door. He looked back over his shoulder, at the tame woods. The memory of the cave was hazy, he couldn't remember what the woman really looked like, she had looked old. Really old, but that was it.  
'Adam had three wives.' Temperance recited in her best impression of Sam's lecturing tone.   
'There was Lilith, who you've met. The story goes that the man upstairs made Adam, who was male and female joined as one, fearing its power he separated them into Adam and Lilith.'  
'Ok? So what, he sent Lilith to Hell and left Adam in the garden?”  
'No, they lived together for a time, but Adam was a complainer wasn't he? Didn't like Lilith's strength, didn't like her being on top, so she was sent off. Then from nothing, before Adams eyes, a new companion was made. Nameless she came to him but he wouldn't have her, too grossed out by seeing a person getting put together. Fussy' Temperance said, eyes closed. She heaved a sigh, recalling the story for Dean.  
'So she gets kicked out, but unlike our dear Lilly she hasn't got grand power and strength, she's only human. Or, more or less human. The first human ever created if you want to get technical. Then himself puts Adam down for a nap, makes him his Eve, who you know well, and the rest is history.'  
'Huh. So whats her deal?' Dean drummed his fingers on the wheel.  
'She bound herself to the earth, that would hold the sons of Adam, to ensure they were better then their father. She lives in the Dreaming.'  
'She was around when, uh, when your dad.' Dean trailed off.  
'Yeah, he said that she came to him when he was alone after being cursed, tried to help. She's the reason he knew how to stay human.'  
There was an uncomfortable pause, Dean looked intently at the empty road and kept his mouth tight shut.   
'What?' Temperance asked, warily.  
'She found us, me and you. You got knocked out during the storm.'  
'Yeah, that was a side effect of the magic I didn't expect.' she rubbed her chin, thoughtfully. 'Odd.'  
'Yeah, uh, you passed out and you were bleeding and I didn't know what to do and she appeared, in the rain. Called me over, so I scooped you up and there was that cave and John.'   
Temperance stiffened, turned her whole body towards him. He continued, haltingly.   
'John was there, she summoned him. He, uh, he knew he was dead and all. Um, so she said she could help, but that it would cost.'  
'Cost?” her voice could have frozen oceans.  
'Yeah, she wanted to know about you. 'Bout the last child of Cain, the true daughter of the, um, line of Adam.'  
Her dark eyes bored into Dean, she made silence uncomfortable when she did that. He slowed the car, and pulled over into a ditch. 'So, she made us lie down, put us in a trance so we could connect to your memories.'  
'My memories?”  
'Yeah.'  
'You were in my head?”  
'Yes.'   
'You and John?”  
He nodded, helplessly.  
She breathed out hard through her nose 'Right.'  
'John, he said to say that he would be waiting for you, at the end of all things that he would be there.'  
She snorted a laugh. 'I'm sure he will'  
'He loved you, loves you.'  
'I know.' a long pause. Dean watched her eyes dart around the brightening road. He knew what it was like to loose someone you loved, to have someone die on you. She had died on him, literally on him, in his arms.  
'Did you find a way to get it off me?' she asked.  
He made a face at that. 'She was supposed to ask us a request before she vanished. She was supposed to help!'  
Temperance groaned. 'Cock. I asked her to remove the Mark and she told me to look for some book.'  
'The Book of the Damned? John told me about that. Don't know where to find it though.'  
'That fucking bitch totally fucked with us. No fair. I asked something that you already knew about.'  
'I couldn't talk, its like my throat was blocked up!' Dean protested, irritated at himself.  
Temperance shook her head. 'Constantine would be very disappointed in us, getting played like that.'  
'Would he be?'  
'Yeah.' she said, darkly.  
A silence filled the car as Dean tried to process everything he had felt that night. What was John, Temperance generally called him a cunt, but it was more an endearment than anything else. He thought, regretfully, that John was a lot like him, they both would get the job done. John wasn't there for other people, he was there for the job, the exorcisms and magic. John had said that he, Dean, was a better man, but that had been a misjudgment. Dean was the one who let Temperance mind get ransacked, he was the one who invaded the privacy of her thoughts.  
Dean looked at Temperance, in the growing light, at her ragged jeans and too pronounced cheekbones, no one was ever there for her and he had to include himself in that bundle. He had promised he was, but he wasn't, he was there for the job too, just like John.  
'Your dad.' he trailed off and she raised a brow at him, hands folded under her chest.   
'Cain. You said he wasn't good and I didn't take that seriously. I never thought that you had it so bad.'  
'Explain a lot?'  
'Yeah I thought all this, what you're going through. I thought it was the Mark, John's death and the rest. I get it now.'  
'Get what?” she spat, dispassionate and un-engaging next to him.  
He didn't answer, guessing correctly that she would want him to say anything, didn't want him to know what he knew. He understood that she was depressed, that she hated herself, that she courted death. He understood that she remembered pain more than anything, in her head all the good things faded, made the bad so much more pronounced. He understood that she was a wreck, that she needed help. He also understood that she loved him, that she felt safe with him.   
He drove into the nearest town, the silence stretching between them.

Dean found them a Motel, once inside she looked at him, long and hard.  
'Cain was my dad, I loved him and he loved me. He didn't always show it, he couldn't, its not his nature and now its not mine.' she flexed her arm slightly. The Mark was quiet, for once.  
'He was shit at being a dad, but he's the only one I had. I'm not looking for closure, I don't need to be enlightened and have inner fucking peace. I came to terms with myself a long time ago, its time you did too.'  
'Whatcha mean?' he took off his boots, sat on the bed.  
'You think that you get me now, you were in my head and felt how bad it was, but you don't know what I was thinking really, you just got a memory of it. You don't know how I've pulled myself out of that shit-pit that is my mind and tried to think better.'  
'You're depressed.'  
'Well who fucking isn't?” she tossed her hair over her shoulder.   
'I'm not the sum of my parts. I'm not a killer or a victim, I'm not a Demon or an Angel and I am not the Mark and all its nonsense.'   
She hung up her coat, tugged off her dress. He looked away quickly, waiting for her to put on her pjs or get under the covers.  
'Look at me, Dean.' she said, after a while, her tone commanding.   
He did, her eyes were serious, older than she was. He didn't dare look lower than her chin.  
'I'm just a person, I'm just me.' the halogen light would have shown up all her scars, but she didn't have any now. All that stood out was the Mark.   
'I'm Temperance, I play the cello and the drums and I can make a good attempt on the piano. I like tea and I like tequila.' she bent to her boots and unlaced them.   
'I love dancing'   
She stood plain before him. He could reach out and touch her, if he wanted, but he didn't. He kept his eyes on her hers and his jaw clenched. She knelt down at his feet and took his hand  
'I love John Constantine, who is dead, and I love you and you are alive.'   
He pulled off his shirt and put it around her to cover up her nudity. He wanted to look at that, he had feeling, he had instincts and she was hot. He just needed a clear head.   
'I love you both so much it hurts' she knotted her fist into her ribs. 'It's a physical thing right here. I would do anything for you, both of you.'  
'I know.' Dean put an arm around her shoulders. 'We'd do anything for you. I'm so sorry we got you so deep into this mess.'  
She climbed into bed, in his red shirt. 'You didn't. I know that you want to fix me, but I don't need fixing, I just need you to love me.'  
'I do.' he muttered, and soon they were asleep.

In his dreams a moan escaped his lips and she bent her head swiftly to capture it on hers. His hands found her skin and held on to her, as if his life depended on it.   
After a time they couldn't kiss anymore and she peeled his clothes off, slowly. Lavishing each new inch of his skin with her sharp tongue, with her lips.  
She traced the ward on his ribs, the jagged scars on his sides and shivered against him, claws sinking into his flesh. Each blissful moment rolled into the next, building an peaking only to build again, until the sun rose over the horizon and they both collapsed, exhausted against each other. The room was filled with flashing light, strobing around them. Breathless and silent he held her in his arms, she was warm, soft, she felt good.  
There was no need to speak, there was nothing to be said. He curled around her and she lay with her lips on his skin, great bat-like wings cocooning them.  
Theres something between you and her, you cant deny it' a voice said. 'A sort of a pull.'  
'Dean Winchester.' the dream creature spoke and shifted, it was no longer Temperance in his arms but a great coiled snake, its clammy tongue tasted the air.   
'Let me in.'  
He woke with a start, his heart beating erratically. He stared at the dark ceiling and didn't sleep for a long while.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He did look tired and drawn in the pale light, they had returned at dawn and decided to sleep until lunch then head back to the Bunker. She took the keys with some trepidation.  
> 'Nightmares.' he explained, when she looked the question at him.  
> 'Hey, you were in my head, be surprised if you didn't......
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

Dean asked her to drive, she froze in the act of pulling on her boots. She looked down at the shirt of his she was still wearing, then back up.  
'I wasn't going to keep it, no need for a trade.'  
'Please.' he grunted 'My heads killing me. I didn't sleep great.'  
He did look tired and drawn in the pale light, they had returned at dawn and decided to sleep until lunch then head back to the Bunker. She took the keys with some trepidation.  
'Nightmares.' he explained, when she looked the question at him.  
'Hey, you were in my head, be surprised if you didn't.' she held the keys in her hand, blinking down at them. 'Dean I don't know how to drive your car.'  
'Carefully.' he yawned.  
He fell asleep as she nosed out of the parking lot, Temperance had never been so worried about him before. He fell asleep while she was driving his most precious possession, one that she had told him she wasn't sure what to do with, his car. He knew how badly she treated her Mitsubishi, he had berated her at length about it.   
She drove out of the Town and down one of those ridiculously large America roads, it was perfectly topped, a wood to one side and a gentle rolling hill to the other. The grass was golden tipped and she could see an old fashioned farm house in the distance.  
Dean wasn't snoring, or mumbling, he was deeply asleep. She had shared enough rooms with the guy to know he did't do deep sleep. After a while she pulled into a village for food, thinking he needed to eat something before the day was out.  
'Dean?' she poked him, then shook him. He groaned and tossed his head aside.  
'Dean!'  
He jerked up, eyes snapping open as he took a great deep breath.   
'Hungry?'  
Dean inhaled, slowly, through his nose, dropped his hand on the door handle and nodded. He moved clumsily towards a little farm restaurant with doilies in the window.   
'Sleep ok?'  
'No, feel like a I just closed my eyes, what time is it?' he mumbled, scrubbing a hand across his face.  
'Its half seven, man, you've been asleep all day.'  
'What?' he looked up bemused, she saw a flicker on interest die on his face.

She watched him as he ate, chewing without interest and swallowing mechanically. She ordered two coffees to go, and he held them, without tasting either as she carefully drove out of the stop. A few minutes later, on the dark, empty road she pulled over and held out her hand.  
He offered her the one in his right fist. 'Oh, no, theres no sugar in that one.'  
Dean made a grunting sound, lifted the cup to his lips and drank.  
Temperance could move quickly, very quickly, when she needed to. She dived over him, opened the door and hurled him onto the asphalt.  
He didn't shout, his lips had gone red and his throat was bulging from the salt she had gotten him to drink. She pinned him down to the ground, ripping his silver knife off his belt, she pressed this to his skin and he shrieked, an inhuman screech. He tried to buck her off him, his hands reared up and scrabbled for purchase on her neck.  
He had long arms, she couldn't keep him away, not while she was trying to expel whatever was riding in his brain.  
'Dean! Fight it!'   
He flipped, moving bonelessly around her to gain leverage and pinned her down to the ground. His shirt collar pulled aside, exposing his throat and she saw a mark, like twin stars just where the dip of his collar bone met his neck. Thin black spit was dripping out of his mouth and falling on her face, it burned, like acid, as he wrapped his hands around her throat, snarling, something blossomed in his eyes, something fractured and bright.  
She slashed his silver knife through the mark, careful, still, not to nick the jugular. Dean's hands fell slack from her neck, the sudden release of pressure made her gasp in a breath. She kicked him off, not as hard as she might otherwise have done and he fell back in a heap.   
Dean immediately stilled and then, with a shuddering breath he roared.   
The lamps on the road flickered and a darkness, like ten thousand black specs burst out of his mouth. The thing, whatever it was, racketed around the trees, its death throes shaking the branches and busting a few lightbulbs. It fell with a shudder, then it became more solid, the specs grouping together, forming a snakelike shadow. It heaved itself over the road, fell and was still, a long black smear splattered down and spread in a weak, watery stain over the ground.  
Dean was shivering, he sat up and Temperance hurried to slap a hand on him and check he was human.  
The fuck?' Dean rasped, sitting up and coughing. A dry hacking sound in his throat, he bent over and spat.  
'Something tagged along from our escapade.' she explained, finding the unsalted coffee and offering it to him.  
'That was inside me?' he took a shaky drink, whey faced and clammy on the ground.  
'Did you talk to anything int he woods, other then the Virgin?' Temperance asked, going over to look at the stain.  
'No, I don't remember anything like that.'  
'Well, what were your nightmares about?'  
He flushed, pink, with embarrassment, not meeting Temperance's eyes. She felt that was a bit rich, he had no right to feel embarrassed when he had been inside her head, rifling through her memories.   
'There was a monster, a snake thing with wings, it said 'Let me in' and bit me. It was weird, it sounded like you for a while, the like something else.'  
'The Virgin?'  
'Maybe.' he got to his feet, fingering the cut on his throat.   
'How are you feeling now?'  
'Um, good, I guess? My head is kinda fuzzy.' Dean blinked down at her, then at the car.  
'Yeah, knew something was wrong when you handed me the keys.' she said trying to lighten the mood. He was scowling when he went bak to the drivers seat and had to crank the seat back to get in.  
'What about you, you ok?' he asked, downing his coffee and smacking his face to wake up.  
'I think so.' she shrugged.  
'So, was that, like, the Virgin. Was she inside me?'  
Temperance frowned down at her hands, a smudge of Dean's blood on her fingers. 'No, I think it was something of hers though, maybe one of her minions or something. It was made of dream stuff, it couldn't survive outside of you.'  
'Why did she do that?' his tone inclined to anger now, that the shock had warn off.   
They pulled into a motel, it only had one room left in the middle of the lot, which Dean didn't like, but he was too exhausted to travel any further. Temperance paid with cash, flashing a French ID for a 'Melanie Arthaud' and wandering back to the room with an unsettled feeling in her gut.  
Her instincts telling her something was still wrong.  
Temperance tossed in her bedding for a while, but sleep crept up over her. Her eyes were fluttering closed when something like a hook latched onto her middle and pulled.  
Everything rushed around her and she was suddenly standing in a dark corridor.  
She squinted as the place seemed to grow less dim. As the light shifted she frowned and touched the wall, like she was testing the rock, it felt solid, jagged and familiar, but wrong. It was too hard, to suddenly there, to real, almost. It looked a little like Hell.  
She bent down, peering at the floor. 'Did this look like Hell before I thought that it did?' she mused, as the world around her shuddered. The ground reared up over her head, becoming a vast, inky, darkness.   
'Hello?' she heard her voice echo though there was nothing for it to echo off.   
A face appeared beside her, then a body, a copy of herself. Its neck moved sinuously, lengthening as she watched and it wrapped its long neck around her chest, constricting her arms against her sides. 'Let me in.'  
'Fuck you!' she thrashed against the creature as it reared up, long fangs descending from its gapping mouth. With a gargling hiss it plunged down, ripping through Temperance chest and biting.  
She snarled, not trying to throw it off, not afraid for all that this was madness. Suddenly it pulled away, whipping aside wildly, flicking blood and gore over the nothingness. It let out a roar that hurt Temperance ears.

She woke up, suddenly, screaming, thrashing about on the bedsheets. Dean pinning her down, shouting at her.  
'Temperance!'  
She gasped out something, she couldn't talk, she put a hand to her throat and it came away bloody. She could feel an open ragged wound there and panicked. She latched eyes with Dean, she couldn't speak, her voice was gone, her fucking voice box was gone.   
'Come on, heal yourself, you're ok!' he pleaded. She could see her blood on him, all over him.   
She pulled power from inside herself, Angelic power, and let it flood her flesh, knitting her skin back together. Pain flared in the wound on her throat and another on her chest. It burned. She rolled over and vomited dark black bile onto the ground.   
She felt weak, dazed, she couldn't heal anymore but she didn't feel right. Dean helped her sit up, he pushed hair from her face and patted her back, high up between her shoulder blades. The wounds from her dream were there, scabbed over and aching and she was horrifically bloody, like she had taken a bath in the stuff. Her skin was marble pale beneath it.  
'I need a steak and, I dunno, a metric fuck ton of spinach.' her voice was hoarse, she put a hand to her throat, coughing shakily.   
'You lost a lot of blood.' Dean was grim at her side, checking her pulse 'How did that happen? Was it a dream, like mine?'  
'I thought it must be a dream, it felt like a dream. Or rather, it felt like an idea of a dream.' she clung to his arm to stand and he led her to the bathroom to sponge the blood off.  
'You need salt?' He asked, worried.  
Temperance shook her head. She felt ill, weaker than she had since fighting Cain, her legs wouldn't cooperate with her and Dean picked her up and carried her to the bath, placing her down gently.   
'Clean up, I'll get you some clothes.'   
'Oh nurse.' she winked, with some of her usual attitude 'I might need help with my sponge bath.'  
'Ha. ha.' he rolled his eyes and threw her a towel.  
She laboriously cleaned herself down and wrapped the towel around her. Dean was scrubbing the carpet and had stripped the bed. She threw the sheets into the tub to soak in cold water. They were sopping wet with blood, it hit her, suddenly, that the ordeal would have killed Dean before she could help him.   
'I think it couldn't stay in me, it was getting poisoned by my blood.' She put a hand to her chest and tried to concentrate,   
'So, what the hell was that thing?'   
'It said 'let me in'.'  
'Just like the thing in my nightmare.' Dean had picked up his crumpled red shirt and shuddered, before offering her the green one he had been wearing that day.  
She took it with a smile. 'I don't own anything green!'  
She pulled on her black dress, it was stained and there was a few holes in it from acid burns, and put the shirt on over it.   
'So, the Virgin was trying to kill us?'  
'Keep tabs on us anyway, as long as we were asleep and had her thing in our heads, she would know where we are. I suppose, technically, she could influence us.'  
'Shit, make us do things?' Dean asked, pulling a face. 'Can nothing ever go smooth!'  
The room was a mess, but clear of bodily fluids. They threw the sheets in the dryer out by a rickety old ice maker and left them in a heap not bothering to remake the bed before peeling out into the night. 

Sam wasn't pleased at their attempt at magic and spent time researching it, and the Virgin, after shouting at them, they told him about the Book of the Damned. He woke Dean in the middle of the night, notebook in hand.  
'Don't do that!' Dean gasped, putting his gun back under his pillow, having jumped up at the intrusion. He had been dreaming about his mom's casserole.  
'We gotta talk.' Sam spoke in a hushed voice. 'You said you guys saw a Golem?'  
'Yeah, Tem said it was one anyway.' He spoke through a jaw cracking yawn, he felt like he could sleep for a week.  
Sam sat on the end of the bed 'There is stories, myths, the Virgin makes Golems and sends them out into the world, but they need to come through magical portals.'  
'Tem said the ritual, the spell we used, could do that. That it might have unwanted side affects.' Dean spoke slowly, the weight of his brothers disapproval was heavy on his shoulders.  
'Well, it does matter, what you did let the Virgin open up her realm to the Earth. Dean, I think that Golem got out!'  
'But, I mean, what harm is it gonna do? They're like nice aren't they? Golems help people out.'  
'Yeah, if the people who made them want 'em to help people. If you want it to kill someone it can do that too! You don't know what the Virgin wanted! Both of you were so fucking irresponsible, you messed around with something and I don't know what the consequences are yet!'   
He stood up and stormed out, Dean heard him banging on Temperance's door.  
She opened it, doe eyed, hair in disarray 'Mmm?'  
'We gotta talk.' Sam said, darkly, dragging the pair of them to the kitchen and brewing strong coffee.  
Dean stumbled along the corridor and sank into a kitchen chair. Temperance, he noticed, had fallen into bed still dressed, in his shirt.   
'I ain't getting that back am I?'  
She popped the collar and pulled a pout. 'Looks better on me, I'll have to dye it though.'  
'What is it with you and colour? You liked Crowley's barbie girl bikini's well enough.'  
'Fuck, don't remind me, they were awful. You know I was only wearing them to pis you both off a bit.'  
'Yeah, sorry about that, we were being douches.' He drank a mouthful of coffee and watched Sam flick through his notes.   
'What memories did the Virgin make you watch?' he asked.  
'Why?' Dean shuffled his feet under the table.  
'Because, she might be using them for something! Come on Dean.  
He snapped a little impatiently. Dean sighed, trying to pull it all together, it was like cupping water in his hands. The harder he thought the more it ran away from him, like a dream in the morning.  
'There was definitely stuff about Tem growing up with Cain, uh, maybe something about him teaching her to Hunt.'  
She made no outward sign that this disturbed her, but there was something too careful about her posture in the seat next to Sam. Dean suddenly got a flash of her remembered feelings, he felt a surge of fear over Cain and shuddered.  
'Then I think there was something to do with John, something about a kid, was it a baby girl or.' he trailed off. 'Yeah, John, a memory of meeting John's daughter.'  
'Rosie.' Temperance smiled softly.  
'John had a kid?' Sam asked.  
'Yes, haven't seen her in ages, thankfully doesn't seem to take after him. She's more or less well adjusted.' Temperance shook her head.  
'Ok, anything else.' Sam asked with a frown.  
'Um,' It was coming back in drips and drabs, he could see Temperance overdosing, he could see her washing blood off her arms after cutting them open. 'Just, sad stuff, stuff she remembers being upset about, and, uh, oh yeah! There was one with us!'  
'With you?' she asked.  
'Yeah, on the way to Nebraska, couple of months back. Nothing weird, just you were remembering hanging out with us.'  
'Well as long as you continue to know nothing of my sex life.' she shrugged.  
He felt the burn of a blush in his cheeks and ducked his head down to his coffee.  
'No!' she wailed, clapping a hand over her face. 'No! Tell me you didn't!'  
'Not during!' he hastened to explain 'It was after, I didn't feel you, uh, em, finish.'  
'Well, you probably wouldn't have known anyway.' she said darkly.  
'Hey, I have satisfied more women then.' he stopped, he had been about to say 'then you' but remembered the head poking out of the duvet in that memory had been a girl.   
She blushed, she was actually blushing, it was so strange that he forgot to be embarrassed about knowing all the shit he had seen. Her cheeks were pink behind her hands and her eyes were bright. Dean couldn't help but laugh at it.  
'Dick.' She kicked him under the table.   
Sam sighed, making a note in his book. 'So, memories where Tem was feeling sad or upset and a few where she was feeling happy?'  
'Yeah, basically.' Dean shrugged.  
'I don't get it.'  
'The Virgin, thing, said she wanted to know about feelings to make the dreams more realistic.' Dean explained, waking up a bit more as caffeine flooded his system.   
'So why tag us with her monsters?' Temperance asked, spinning a saucer around with her finger tip.  
'This is what happens when you use magic you don't understand.' Sam sniffed, still annoyed at them.  
'Oh, look who's talking.' Temperance muttered, darkly, but Sam pretended not to hear it.  
'Why me though?' Temperance asked, sharply. 'We were both there.'  
'And John,; Dean added.  
'And.' she broke off.   
Temperance lifted up her face, eyes unfocused. She barely seemed to be breathing.   
'Tem?' Sam asked, shooting her a worried look.  
She knuckled the tabletop and said 'She knows about Constantine's daughter.' then she seemed to grow very still, paling under their scrutiny.   
'She's got Constantine, she's got his soul. Thats it. She tagged us with the monster, to make sure we didn't interfere.'  
'But, but why?' Sam asked, dropping his pen and spreading his hands. 'Why?'  
Dean wanted to deny it, but he couldn't be sure. The soul and ghost had been gone when he had awoken.   
Souls, he knew, were valuable. Not just in a spiritual sense, they had more juice than an A Bomb and beyond that he knew that there was a sort of sick obsession with them, you could pervert them outside of a host body then place them in a vessel and make a monster.   
It took skill and effort and there was no guarantee that it would work. Unless of course you were skilled at making creatures to begin with and the soul that you had was equally skilled in magic. Which surely the Virgin was, she made dreams, made nightmares. He recalled the shuffling Golem that had interrupted their spell to begin with.  
'She could use it to animate a dream thing, make something alive, really alive. Thats what she's after. The type of magic Constantine used would have stopped anyone from finding his soul, unless it was handed to you you couldn't get at it.' Temperance voice bitter.  
'Tem we didn't know!' Dean took her hand, but she pulled away.  
'I got him killed and now I got his soul stolen, fucking ace girlfriend material.' she spun John's ring on her finger glumly, the chunky gold was dull and worn against her skin.   
'But he wouldn't go along with it, he'd fight it' Dean pressed.  
'Not if she had leverage.' Temperance swallowed, pain flashing on her face.   
'His daughter, Rosie, what if she's got Rosie?'


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belief is what made magic work, it was always her downfall. The spells that worked for her were all curses, all the types of magic that were nothing more than poison and empty promises. How could she believe in magic when she didn't believe in herself, after all.......
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

'Can you find the kid?'  
Temperance pulled the signet ring off her finger and squeezed it tightly in her palm. It hurt, she focoused on that, her mind racing. 'I'll call her Mam, Birdie.'  
It was one of the few home phone numbers that Temperance knew off by heart. She had lived a few months in London, Chas had gotten her a job in Soho, in an upmarket cocktail bar where young business people did cocaine in the marble tiled bathrooms and didn't care about the price of champagne compared to the more palatable, in her biased opinion, prosecco.  
Birdie had always met her for lunch on her days off, after dropping Rosie to Creche and working her morning shift in the nursing home. Birdie was the kind of person who had been born a mother, she was full of compassion and love and her own bright charm.  
Temperance would be lying if she said she hadn't fallen a little bit in love with her.  
She dialed the number, waited for the scratchy cross-atlantic tone and counted her breaths until it was answered. 'Hello?” a gruff male voice, Tommy, Birdie's husband.  
'Its Temperance.'  
'Tempy!' she heard a woman wail from a distance. She could picture Birdie hurrying across the tiny sitting room to the phone, mounted on the kitchen wall.  
'She's gone! She weren't in bed when I went in the check on her and she's not on the street, no one has seen her!'  
Temperance felt her heart constrict and was sure her face crumpled, Sam's broad hand fell on her back, folding her steady. She took a breath, a shuddering breath.  
'Someone took her, ok, I'll get her back. Don't call the police, yeah?'  
'But John had all sorts of magic on this place! How did someone get in?'  
Oh, god, fuck. Temperance rattled off every insult to herself that she knew, selfish, self absorbed stupid fucking bitch.  
'I'm sorry Birdie, he's dead. Constantine's dead.'  
Down the line the woman gasped, a rattle as she sank into a seat and dragged the curling phone cord over the tabletop. Before she could speak Temperance did.  
'I'm on my way, alright? I'm coming.' and she hung up, she couldn't face that conversation over the phone. She felt wet tears in her eyes but blinked them away.  
She hurried to her room to dress and met Dean in the hallway, buckling his belt, shouldering a kit bag. Neither of them had rested, she was sure that he wore it better though.  
A gruff nod to indicate that he was ready. 'What now?'  
'Sam's looking up a way to kill her, we should call Cas, or Gus.' she pulled out her phone, but dean simply lifted his head and said.  
'Castiel!'  
The Angel poked his head out of the library door, looking as worn out as Temperance felt.  
'You ok?' Dean asked, going to his side.  
'There has been upheaval in Heaven.'  
'Oh, god, I don't care right now!' Temperance spat. 'We have to get to Regents Park in London and we need to find a child.'  
'Yes, Sam explained to me already, but this is why I must tell you about Heaven. Your father the Archangel Michael has reordered the Angels above. He is gathering a force to attack Hell and he has told them about you.' Castiel spread his neat hands, palm up as if to impress how powerless he was in this situation.  
'The Angels are searching for you, they will kill you if they find you.'  
'Well let them fucking try!' She began, but the Angel cut her off. A first for him, he was usually so conscientious.  
'He has enlisted forces against you, but there is a faction that does not support him which is lead by my sister Naomi. Civil War has begun and in this time many souls have been taken from Heaven. We believe that Michael has given these in payment for creatures, monsters, to ally to his cause.'  
'Thats fucking twisted.' she spat, but she just didn't care, not now. She looked at Dean, who was chewing over a thought.  
'He's enlisted things that go bump it he night, huh? Would the Virgin be one of 'em?'  
Castiel looked at him, confused, wondering, but he nodded. 'Yes, the Dreaming supports him. I will try and ward your minds during your sleep.'  
'Shit, shit, shit.' Temperance chanted.  
Dean and Sam and never looked quite so grim before, a sudden little shock of understanding that they were aging. She had known them for years now, they were human, they aged, she did not. They were changing before her eyes, each grief weighing them down.  
This wasn't their fight.  
'Castiel, did he block the passages to Heaven?' she asked.  
'Yes. The gates between Heaven and the Realm of Dreaming and those between Heaven and Purgatory are guarded by Golem.'  
'I suddenly feel less guilty about deciding to kill her.' Temperance had a number of knives strapped to her body, a set of knuckle dusters, tipped with rock salt in one pocket, the First Blade in a sheath on the small of her back.  
She tugged her leather jacket on, Crowley had made it, intricately sewn runes in-place of stitches, this jacket would survive the end of the world. Anger began to bubble to the surface now. She felt her eyes going black, but she didn't try to stop it. She had shit to do. The Mark was roaring for blood and she was happy to comply, for once.  
Dean stepped up beside her. 'Cas, Sam, find out about killing this bitch ok?' Then he turned to Temperance.  
'Can you get us the London?'

'Yes.' she felt more confident about this than ever before. She took his hand and pulled him with her into a vast nothingness that wasn't exactly, not, something. A blink, a heartbeat. Pavement formed under the feet.  
She knew John's wards were broken, she shouldn't be able to get this close to the flats. The terrace was all concrete and white windows, she counted the floors to Birdie's house and opened the main door, Dean followed her.  
'Does it feel like we are constantly being played to you?' she asked.  
'Yeah.' he grunted. 'It does.'  
The front door was blue and had a love heart around the peep hole, she knocked, but pushed the door open before anyone answered. She wiped her feet on the mat, toed off her shoes and went into the sitting room. It hadn't changed much since she was last there.  
Warm light flooded in from the windows, over the sagging yellow sofa. The archway to the kitchen was strung with coloured bead and a woman sat at an old formica table underneath a vibrant painting on a bird, a pot of tea was steaming on a cork mat.  
'Birdie.'  
She had a peacock silk band around her hair and a few tight curls had spilled out around her neck, she was dressed in crumpled navy scrubs. She seemed to gather herself as Temperance sat down and reached out a hand to take hers.  
'I'm sorry about John, Tempy.' her rich voice was soft and kind as Temperance remembered.  
'Where is Tommy?'  
'He's at Court, has a big case on some tech company, its all very hush-hush.' she dragged her tired golden brown eyes up to Dean.  
'Who are you?'  
'Uh, Dean Winchester.' he shook her hand and she pulled him into a seat.  
'He's a Hunter, he knew Constantine. He can help.' Temperance explained.  
'Oh, Tempy!' Birdie's face crumpled.  
'My little girl! Who has her?' her fingers fluttered, darting to wipe her tears. She sucked in a few ragged breaths while Temperance scooted closer and took both her hands, trying to be reassuring.  
'I'll find her.' she tried to project confidence, tried not to let the Mark overwhelm her. She looked at Dean, who took her place at the table, while she checked the house.  
The bedroom had been painted since it was a nursery, where the cot had stood there was a pink and white framed bed, and around it were a row of stuffed animals and toys, waiting for someone to play with them.  
The bed hadn't been slept in, Temperance sat on it, looking around, feeling out any magic that might have been left behind. She fell across the glaring absence of John's wards, but there was something else, something softer, something older. Something that felt like dazzling promises and tasted like fear.  
She put her hand down on the floor, on the pale carpet there was a thick white hair. It could have been a string, but stretched and snapped as hair does over the back of Temperance's fingernail. The Virgin had stood here, she hadn't even bothered to cover her tracks. She wanted Temperance to find her.  
'Shit.'  
Dean looked at her expectantly when she walked back to them and she nodded. Knowing that he would understand. The Virgin had taken Rosie, that fucking cunt had stolen John's daughter.  
'The people who took her. They aint gonna hurt her, its us they want.' he said.  
Birdie blinked, shaking her head. 'So why take my daughter?'  
'It was my fault.' Temperance said.  
'I should have come here the second Constantine died and fixed the spells around her. They got her because of me, because I love her. I'm so sorry Birdie.'  
The woman's head dropped, a definite sag to her shoulders, but as quickly as she fell she rallied. Standing tall and opening the fridge.  
'I'll have dinner ready, when you come back.'  
Dean's eyes darted between the two women and Temperance gently beckoned for him to move. They left the house, walking in silence down the stairs to the empty street. Birdie was strong, capable, kind and when pressed, absolutely ferocious. She was trusting Temperance to return with her child, or not to return at all.  
'So, how do we find her?' Dean asked.  
'Location spell.' Temperance said, she bent down and scratched a rune on the ground with a chunk of white chalk, taking the hair she carefully wrapped it around John's signet ring and placed it in the middle of the marking. 'Not voodoo this time, this is all Constantine.'  
His rune, his spell, his daughter. She let the magic flow through her, a strange understanding as it settled on the mark that she had drawn.  
Belief is what made magic work, it was always her downfall. The spells that worked for her were all curses, all the types of magic that were nothing more than poison and empty promises. How could she believe in magic when she didn't believe in herself, after all.  
This, she knew as she began, would work, because if she believed in anything she believed in John Constantine. The magic burned bright, it jolted into her head, leaving her a perfect image of the Virgin on a rocky plane. An emerald sky above her. It seared itself into Temperance's imagination.  
'Dreaming.'  
'Huh?' Dean asked.  
'She has Rosie in the Realm of Dreams.' A stab of pain lanced from the Mark and she hissed, flinching. She saw Dean's eyes dart to her arm, but he didn't ask, he knew already what was wrong.  
'So, we're fighting her on her turf.' he took out his phone and text his brother.  
She blessed him for being so accepting, he was more resilient than he gave himself credit for.  
'We have to go into the Dreaming, theres a way to get there, you have to be asleep but we need to able to control it. To dream lucidly, there this plant, it makes you trip the fuck out, it will help.'  
'What, LSD? Shrooms?' He hastened to follow her down the slopping pavement, into the shade of a tall tree. She took his hand once more and pulled them away from Regent street.

'Ah shit!' she had transported them into the middle of a man-made lily pond, inside a massive greenhouse. It was clammy and the water was black.  
'You need to work on that.' He shuffled over to the side and stepped out of the water, shaking out his jeans and stomping his boots.  
'What is this place?'  
'Kew Gardens' she said, flicking a vague hand at the plant-life around them. She led him through a door and down pretty, meandering paths, until they reached a building marked 'Staff Only.'  
He had heard of this place, he thought Sam might like it, but the flowers were already making his want to sneeze and scratch at his eyes. He took out his phone, checking to see if his brother had got back to him. Nothing.  
'How do we kill her?'  
Temperance didn't stop walking, she was full of a fierce determination, everything about her screaming for action.  
'If the Colt doesn't work, the Blade might?'  
'OK, failing that?' he pressed. 'We can't go in without a plan, shit, how do we even go in! Like if we're dreaming our weapons will be here, with our bodies.'  
Temperance's face fell, she was usually good at spotting this type of pit fall, she put her hand to her head, slumping forward.  
'I got that kid kidnapped, Constantine might already be gone, if we get there in time.' she stopped, cutting off her words with a shake of her head.  
'No.' he saw where this was going and he pulled her roughly around, shaking her. 'No, we aint trading you for them!'  
'Michael wants me, the Virgin will agree to it.'  
'Well I don't want you dead!' he growled in her face.  
His phone rang, the jingle cutting off her argument. He answered it quickly. 'Sam?'  
'You can kill her.'  
'Good, how?'  
'She's more vulnerable in the Dreaming, from what we've got it sounds like if you destroy her heart, you can destroy her.'  
'Ok, how do we destroy her heart?' he saw Temperance brighten as he said that, her mind shifting into gear.  
'You uh, ok this is weird but, you have to dream it.'  
'Dream it?' he looked at Temperance, hoping she had an answer to that. She nodded, sucking in her cheeks.  
'Ok.'  
He put the phone in his pocket and gestured her to lead the way.  
There were long benches lined with seedlings and trays of tiny sprouts, but Temperance walked by all of them, kicking open a stubborn, heavy, door at the opposite end. It was dark, in the room, she found a switch and flipped it, bathing the small space in red light. 'Cardiospermum Hallicacabum.' she said, pointing to a few small plants on a rack  
'Excuse me, professor.' he scoffed.  
'Balloon Plant, to you and me.'  
Dean squatted down to look at it, it was just a tiny, finger-length growth. Nothing balloon-like about it, that he could tell. Temperance dug her hand into the black soil and pulled it out in a swift motion.  
'In small quantities the root of the mature plant is a diuretic, for tummy problems.'  
'Uhuh, and we need that to get into Dreamland?' he asked, skeptical.  
'Get the plant young enough, before its ever fruited and get the magic right and you have a root commonly referred to as African Dream Root.' She snapped the greenery away, holding out a pale tubber.  
'This will get up into the Dreaming, and we get to keep control of our minds.'  
'How do we get out?'  
'We wake up.' she said, sitting down on the floor and gesturing for him to join her. 'Ready?'  
He nodded, scowled down at the plant and waited for whatever was supposed to happen. Temperance put the balls of both thumbs on the root and snapped it open, like a sweet pea-pod. She was murmuring something under her breath, it sounded like water moving over stones, a soothing babble that gently made them both close their eyes and fall into a deep sleep.

Dean was walking with his dad, he was an adult but somehow his dad was much taller. He held onto his hand and peered around. Temperance was tugging on his shirt, he let go of his father and let her pull him away, through long grass, to a rugged looking mountain. The sky glittered, green and bright.  
'Did it work?'  
'Yes.' she said. 'This is the Dreaming.'  
She was wearing the minidress he remembered from when thy first met and he looked down to try and see himself. Jeans, biker boots, an old leather jacket that had belonged to his dad.  
'You look a lot younger.' Temperance sad, leading him away from the field.  
'You look like you've been to a party, disco chick.' he grunted. He had searched his pockets, but didn't have a weapon.  
'How does this work?' he asked.  
'We destroy her heart, easy, she's here in body. This is where her body exists, we just have to bare that in mind.'  
'What the hell does that mean?'  
The mountain before them seemed to shrink into a gentle hill, covered with soft grass and wild flowers. Trees grew under a warm sun, offering perfect shade to sit beneath. Dean felt the world trying to call him into it, a strong current playing with his sanity.  
'Lets do this quickly.' he said, trough gritted teeth. 'How do we kill her?'  
Temperance held out her hand, a long knife appeared it in. 'Stab the bitch.'  
'Thats your plan for everything.' He took a quick look around again, not trusting his eyes. Quintessential fluffy white clouds had popped up in the sky.  
'How do we find her?'  
Temperance frowned. 'She will be in the centre.' she raised a finger and pointed to a part of the sky that seemed to swirl with colour.  
'I'd guess there.' She was radiating anger, Dean noticed her eyes had gone black again and the Mark was burning bright on her arm.  
'Tem.' Dean said 'How do we do this.'  
'We have to remember its a dream, its our dream, we can control it. I'm sure she's got power and she can fight that, but as long as we keep it in mind that she has a body and that we can hurt her, well, we can. Its like belief.'  
'We can do this.' she added, when he didn't look convinced.  
'I seriously hate magic.' he grumbled.  
'You and me both.'  
As they neared the centre things became crazier, they were walking on the sky with land above their heads at once point and for a while after a flock of upside-down birds swooped around them. The light around them flickered between twilight and moonlight, before going dark altogether and flooding with star like white orbs.  
They bounced away as Dean reached out to touch one. He saw a wake of his own hand moving as the velvet darkness billowed out. He didn't like it, sweat dripped down his shirt as the air got thick and heavy on his chest. Temperance wasn't sweating, he noticed, she was shivering violently as if a terrible cold had her in its grip.  
'We're getting close.' he said, waiting for something to challenge them.  
As if called by his words their feet were suddenly walking on pale rock, shattered and dusty like the surface of the moon. Startled, Dean looked around, the sky was dark once more, the rock beneath them seemed to radiate a faint luminescence. Temperance tapped his shoulder and pointed with her chin.  
The earth was rising to their right. He stilled, unable to look away from the brilliant blue planet. He knew, on some level, that he wasn't on the moon and that this wasn't real, but it all felt so real. He had to restrain himself from testing out the gravity and shook his head to drag his eyes back to their path.  
'Its my dream.' he told himself, 'Mine.'  
On a scree littered slope he could see a cave mouth yawning dark before them. There was a fire lit inside, the dancing red light straining the rock. He took a breath and dove inside.  
Into chaos.  
He didn't know which way was up, all ways seemed to be up, blood roared in his ears as he suffered a violent surge of vertigo. Hot rain soaked into his skin, he tried to wipe it away and wrenched his feet away from whatever surface they had landed on and took another step.  
The world righted itself around him, the weight of his clothes dragged on his skin and he stumbled as Temperance bumped into him. He realised the rain had not been water, but blood, thick and red. They both looked nightmarish.  
Sightless eyes blinked at them from the cave walls, two massive Golem lifted their clay feet and began to walk towards them.  
'Hello.' An ancient rattle. The Virgin stood on the a flat section of rock, a curved hand, like a claw on the shoulder of a small, trembling girl.  
The child was dressed in a denim dress with a pink t-shirt beneath, her white socks were dirty and the patent boots she wore were scraped and scuffed. Her hair was gathered in two bunches and tied with velvet scrunchies, tears shone on her round cheeks. Clasped in small hands the girl held a bright orb, a soul, John's soul.  
Dean couldn't say how the sight around him changed, but it did, somehow the cave was a massive abyss and the Virgin stood at its edge, beneath her, too far below to comprehend, there was a red fire and the heat of IT began to turn the stone around them to dark and shinning glass.  
'You get the girl.' Temperance said. He noticed the knife she held had changed, morphing into the First Blade.

It was a terrible sight to behold, Temperance fist was white around the jagged bone knife as she moved with murderous grace through the fire and smoke. The Golem fell before she had hit the floor and she ran, with a speed that would have impressed an olympian. Leaping over the shattered clay, barely breaking her stride to pluck the scroll from its broken head and crumple it in her strong fist.  
Through the hellish haze of red smoke and unholy fire, the soul fluttered blue and bright agitated in the hands of the terrified child.  
'Not another step' the Virgin said, halting Temperance in her tracks by setting a knife against the girls quivering throat.  
'Tempy!' the child wailed.  
Dean had fought his way forward, panting beside her. He could feel a strange energy radiating from her, and it wasn't the Mark which was dull on her skin now. He glanced at her face, through the grime, sweat and ash, her eyes could rival the light of the soul. Angelic power, unveiled grace, burned, somehow, more hellishly than her black Demon eyes had ever done.  
'Let them go.' her voice not quite right, not quite human but he couldn't say how. Nothing here made any sort of sense. Her whole being seemed to shine with a trembling pale fire. 'Let. Them. Go.'  
A grinding noise made Dean turn around, the shattered Golem were piecing themselves back together, reforming even larger than before.  
'Shit!' he spat, forgetting there was a child nearby. He put his back to Temperance, keeping the creatures in sight.  
'No' The Virgin's shrunken lips peeled back over tombstone teeth. 'Witches and magi, I have nothing against, they have the strength of Lilith that was and she nurtured me in my innocence, but you. Abomination, you I must destroy.'  
'Then do it to me! Not to her!' she pointed the Blade at Rosie 'She's a child!'  
'Yes!' she cackled 'The child of your beloved, the soul of your beloved. Your very reasons for living. The Archangel gave me great power, power I have not tasted for eons, and all he asked was that I weaken you.' She looked now at Dean 'I should have taken this one first, and the brother. That would have driven you quite made, indeed.'  
'I'm gonna enjoy killing you!' Dean spat.  
'Tempy, I.' the child gasped, her voice frail.  
'Hush' The Virgin crooned, stroking a finger over Rosie's smooth cheek.  
'Fret not, it is your life I will take child, not your soul. That is a pure thing destined for Heaven.' she looked down at Rosie and that was her mistake, her last mistake.  
Temperance launched forward, her elbow forcing Rosie out of the way. She broke the ancient creatures arm in her grip and brought the Blade handle down across her head.  
Dean darted forward to scoop up the id to stop her falling into that pit of fire below them. She trembled in his arms. This is a dream, he told himself, that bitch is real but none of the rest of it is. Its my goddamn dream.  
The world lost focus, the heat abated, but not by much.  
The Virgin fell to the floor with a roar, and Temperance tumbled over her, sprawling on the rock. Her eyes were still glittering. Dean pushed the little girl behind him, shielding her eyes.  
Before he could work out what to do another Temperance was walking towards him, her eyes were black, she was wearing a blood drenched sundress, then suddenly a pink bikini and just as suddenly she was un-bloody and naked and she jumped at him.  
He grappled with her, trying to push her aside, it wasn't real. Her teeth sunk into his shoulder and she threw him down on the ground. He scrambled away, hands reaching for anything, for a rock, a weapon.  
The dream Temperance stalked toward him, she straddled his waist, then her eyes changed, no longer Demon black, but grey and soft. 'Dean?' it spoke, in a voice Temperance had never used before. She was dressed in her mini dress, he could see a mass of scar tissue on her throat and down over her arm. She bent her head and kissed him, and he lost it. He pulled her close, she felt good, her lips were warm and her tongue was hot in his mouth. She wanted him. He wanted her.  
He pulled away, just to brush her hair aside, where were they, had they left the Leech nest yet. He couldn't remember and he didn't care. He kissed her neck and she arched into him.  
Blood.  
He tasted blood and scrambled back,  
The dream woman's neck was ripped open and blood was gushing out, pouring over his skin.  
'No!' he roared. 'This aint real!'  
His fingers closed over a rock and he brought this down across her head, with a strangled scream. The thing burst apart, vanishing like dust motes into the scorching air.

The real Temperance was darting across the stone, the Virgin was down, prone on the ground and before she could rear up and pounce the First Blade sunk into her ancient flesh.  
'Go to fucking hell, you cunt.' Temperance spat, arching light sparking from her ranging eyes.  
Dean hurried to the kid, she was cowering in a corner, her eyes shut tight.  
A wild, screeching roar echoed in the cave and the Virgin crumbled, old bones turning to dust, dust dissolving in the air. Temperance didn't stay to watch, she scooped the soul into her hand sank to the ground by Dean and Rosie. She kissing her the girls head, her face. 'You're alright, darling, darling, you're ok.'  
Rosie cried in Temperance's arms and she rocked her on the floor, unheeding of the chaos around them. Dean took the soul from her and held it in his fist. The cave was melting over their heads, waxlike puddles seeming to fill the rocky plain and crawl upwards to encase the dying sky.  
'Shh, darling girl, we can go home now, shh, it's ok. Its just a dream, we can wake up.'


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He needed her to know that he wanted to understand her, that nothing he learned could stop him loving her. He had seen her rescue Rosie and seen her shrug off a long friendship for the child's sake. He had seen her kill her parents, burn her boyfriends corpse and kill herself. He moved to sit closer to her, waiting for the words to form on his tongue....
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING
> 
> References of drug use and suicide.

'Rosie!' the woman cradled the sleeping girl in her arms. 'What happened? Temperance?” Her eyes widened, taking in the blood soaked filth. 'Tempy, what the fuck?'  
'Can I have a shower? I'll explain it all.'   
She nodded mutely and stood aside so they could pass. '  
'You've been gone for a day!' Birdie explained, forcing Dean to drink a cup of bitter, black tea.  
When they were clean and sitting in the tiny, Lino floored, kitchen they all slumped. Rosie was still asleep in her mothers arms.   
'She wont remember, it will fade, like a dream.' Temperance said, her eyes locked on the girls head.  
Birdie had laid out a spread of Caribbean food and plenty of her fortifying black tea, which Dean ate and drank with a relish. He was starving, he felt like he had hiked the Appalachian trail since he had last seen food.  
Laying down her fork Birdie shook her head. 'I dunno Tempy. It's all so, It's just.' words failed her.  
'Magic.' Dean said, a ripple disgust at the word.  
'I'll redo the wards now, actually.' and Temperance got up and left the kitchen, Dean eyed the food on her plate, shrugged and helped himself to it.  
'What happened to her?' Birdie gestured with her chin.  
'I remember when John first introduced her to Rosie, years ago now. She was this bright thing and then she got sadder and quieter, but now, its like a shadow. She's a watered down imitation of an imitation. That isn't my Tempy.'  
'She's had a stint of shit that would make tonight look like a tea party.' Dean found himself saying.  
The things she's been put through, that I put her through. She's damned herself to save the world, killed her mom, her dad. John died in front of her, hell she tried to kill herself.' he stopped, thinking about her Demon face stalking them in the Bunker.   
'She almost did.' he finished, darkly.   
Birdie's wide dark eyes were pained, brimming with tears. 'I never loved John, I liked him alright, but we was never in love. I thought Tempy would lift him up, but I think maybe it was him that did that for her. Funny old world.' she looked down at the sleeping girl.   
'Thank you for helping to save my daughter. If you ever need us we're here.'  
'No problem.' he smiled, weakly.   
'You know my Rosie, she's so like her dad, my Tommy, and so like John too. It's strange that, how you can be like people who aren't blood and be like people who you don't even know?'  
'Guess so' he nodded.  
'I love Tempy, she's family to me, but I hope to God almighty that Rosie isn't anything like her. I hope Rosie forgets her and I hope she never sees her again. Is that horrible?”  
'No' it was Temperance who spoke, eyes in two bruised pits.   
'I hope as much too.'  
Dean wished she hadn't heard that, he'd do anything to take that memory from her. He knew she would carry it, agonise over it, he knew that it would be added to the deep well of her self loathing.  
'Thank you for rescuing her, thank you for protecting her. Thank you.'  
Temperance looked at her hands, pulled the ring from her thumb 'It's hers.' was all she said.  
'What? No, John gave it to you!'  
'It's the Constantine's crest. It belong with the last Constantine, may she never bare the name and may she never follow the curse.' it sat heavy and golden on the counter.   
'You give it to her when she's all grown up, with a kiss from me. C'mon' she said to Dean 'Lets go.'  
He thought she would cry, he thought she would say something, but she just looked resigned, she looked like John did sometimes. 'One more stop, then home.'  
'Where?' He asked, feeling dead on his feet despite the food. The soul in his hands was heavy.  
'Heaven.' she drew a rune he did not know with the Blade and latched onto his hand. The earth around them faded and was replaced by a tumbling white light that solidified and formed around them like a great marble palace, as lofty and bright as Hell's throne room was dark and close.

A flash of boiling pain struck Temperance as they arrived, Heavens natural defences trying to cast her out, away from that sacred space. It boiled the blood in her veins but she ignored it, she had to do this.   
'You shouldn't be here.' a woman of indeterminate age spoke behind them, an Angel.  
Temperance held out the soul and the Angel gasped, rushing forward to take it. 'John Constantine' she said.  
Temperance nodded 'He deserves to be here'  
'Yes. He does. You however, do not'  
Temperance took a step back, looked down, longingly at John's soul. She felt that she would never see him again, she doubted she could ever return to Heaven.   
'Just, tell me truthfully that he gets the whole peace and joy eternal, like any other hunter?'  
The Angel smiled, opening her hands. The soul began to take shape, as a world around them took shape with it.   
John was sitting on a hill, overlooking a grey city washed clean with recent rain. A man with a shock of brown hair was walking up the incline towards him, waving. A skinny old guy with a soldier on his arm and a nun followed behind him. Temperance didn't know the place, or the time, but the back of Johns head was a lot less grey, still perfectly blonde in fact.   
'Y'alright lads?” He shouted down. He had a cigarette in his mouth, spoke around it. He was very young, maybe 21 at most. A picnic basket and a record player beside him, the sun began to shine, the damp lifting from the air.  
'He will be fine.' The Angel spoke.   
'Come, you must leave this place, lest the Archangel learn of your arrival.'  
Temperance nodded, looked at the Blade and handed it over too. Their guide looked shocked, handling it reverently.   
'It is yours.' she said, trying to offer it back.  
'No, I don't want it.' Temperance said 'I've enough problems as it is.'  
She took Dean's arm and with a rush of noise, like movement in water pulsing in his head, then they slammed into the ground, knees buckling, right outside the Bunker. It was much easier to let go of the Blade this time, it felt less like wrenching off a limb.  
'What was that place?' Dean asked  
'Liverpool, I think. His perfect Saturday.'Meeting Chas and his friends for lunch, drinking cans in the park then off to the club to play music, to dance, to live like ordinary kids live.'  
'Why give up the Blade?' He asked.  
'Because its not good fro me.' she said, easily 'I don't want it.'  
Dean looked quickly down at her covered arm, nodded. She hoped that understood where she was coming from. She needed change, she needed a metaphorical new leaf. They didn't have friends to visit, but they could go make new ones and eat out, drink in a bar, watch a movie. She needed a moment to be human.   
'Rosie calls you Tempy.' he said, slowly, a thought blossoming in his head.  
'Yeah, like Constantine did.' she raised a brow.  
Dean nodded. 'So, Crowley is the only one who uses your full name? It's just weird. He's known you longer than all of us and you never got a nickname, he has nicknames for everyone.'  
She smiled, a little sadly 'Yeah. People he fears and people he loves, the only ones who get referred to by name.'  
'Huh. I just, I guess I didn't believe he really cared for you until recently.'  
'Until your stroll down memory lane?' she asked, shrewdly, as she opened the front door.  
'Yeah.' he followed her inside.

She dumped her jacket on the table and sank into a chair, rubbing her eyes wearily. Dean never really thought about her not aging, maybe because right then she did look closer to 100 then 40.   
'Ask, go on, it's ok.'  
He sat down beside her 'You stabbed John, when you met him. He had told me that but seeing it made it a lot more creepy.'  
She chuckled. 'He followed me, I thought he was a Hunter or something.'  
'How did he find you?'  
'He was at the bar.' she smiled suddenly. 'Hah! I was in a crappy punk band, living in a van and bar hopping through Europe. One day we got bored and got the boat to the US, went to New Orleans first. Constantine was having a pint in this shit hole voodoo bar with Chas and we got a gig there.'   
She seemed to drift away for a moment and Dean couldn't help but admire how open her face was, for once.   
'We fell in together, worked together a few years before we got together, uh, romantically.'  
'Wasn't love at first sight, huh?'  
'Ha! No! The mans a dick' she paused. 'Was a dick, but I saw past that in the end.'  
'Um, I saw you try to kill yourself a few times.' he chewed on the inside of his cheek, unsure how to voice his concern. 'Crowley was there, once.'  
She titled her head to the side. 'I did a few jobs in that I couldn't pull myself out of. It all just got too much, far too much. I never really got better, you know, I never dealt with it properly. I pretended to be alright for years and then, well, then I couldn't pretend anymore.'  
'You needed help?' he asked. 'Its not bad to admit that.'  
She looked pained, embarrassed. 'Crowley helped, I got a bit better after that, less hopeless. Papa Midnite gave me a job and took me on as an apprentice, his absolute worst apprentice. I was terrible at Voodoo.'  
'Crowley only introduced us cause we needed a Hunter who could do magic, why the hell did he pick you? You hate magic!' Dean laughed a little.  
'Hmm, not too sure, I suppose because he trusts me. Anyone else he might of had to kill.'  
Dean frowned at that. 'Remember when we met?' he asked.  
'Vaguely.' she winked. 'Didn't you drag me into a parasite nest and make me snog you?'  
'Hey! I heard no complaints!' he raised his hand and grinned, when she was happy her voice was happy. That little hint of something Italian under the Irish, something rich and made for poetry.   
'But I mean, before we met, when Crowley went and got you from that party.'  
She nodded, smirking a little.  
'You, uh, drugs are like, I dunno. They're like your thing, um.' he couldn't bring himself to ask.   
He needed her to know that he wanted to understand her, that nothing he learned could stop him loving her. He had seen her rescue Rosie and seen her shrug off a long friendship for the child's sake. He had seen her kill her parents, burn her boyfriends corpse and kill herself. He moved to sit closer to her, waiting for the words to form on his tongue.  
'I'm not an addict, I don't get addicted to anything, except maybe the Blade.' Her voice was low, and serious. 'I just like not feeling like me. I like liking myself and everyone else. I enjoy it.'  
'I aint seen you do 'em, not here.' he cocked his head to the side. 'You smoke, but you don't take pills in the library or anything.'  
'Yeah, well, I do sometimes.' she seemed uncomfortable and shifted in her seat. 'Not often. Generally not in the library.'  
'Have you, uh, got any drugs?'  
'Why? You want some?' She joked, then shook her head. 'No, don't worry.'  
'I do worry.' he let out a breath. 'I kinda know your track record on this and I don't want you to kill yourself, specially not on my watch.'  
'On your watch' she scoffed, smiling kindly. 'As if I would add to your burdens, I'm not that shit a friend.'  
'You did once already!'  
'I came back!' she protested. 'I only died a little.'  
He tried to smile, his head still reeling with her memories. 'You uh.' he stopped, chewing his lip. While she looked on, impassive.   
'If you don't mind talking about it, uh. You always said Cain was a bad father, but that he tried his best.'  
She nodded. 'He did try, I was just unlovable to him. His nature got the better of him.'  
'If someone else had raised you, like, if a human had, do you think you'd be' he gestured, feeling rude to say 'so fucked up'.  
She blinked 'I never really thought about it, if anyone else raised me I'd be long dead. They would have found me as a baby and torn me to shreds.' She looked at him frankly 'You never talk about your dad.'  
'Better that way.'   
'You love him, you miss him.'  
'He's gone.' he stood up 'Come on, lets head to bed, all this emotional shit has got me tired. This is probably the most honest I've ever been with a woman. Ever.'  
She chuckled, nodding him off from the couch.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean spared him a glance but found his eyes drawn back to the woman. She moved perfectly, it wasn't dancing it was, something else. He wasn't the only one who noticed, everyone around her seemed to react. She existed perfectly, there, in that moment, she was joy itself.  
> Crowley snorted 'She's half Angel, after all......
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

'What happens to the Dreaming?” Sam asked.  
'It will continue, it exists in human-kinds mind after all.' Castiel had stayed at the Bunker, building up complex wards around the perimeter to protect it more completely.   
'So, whats next?' Dean asked, knuckling his eyes. His sleep had been fitful and broken, he had tossed and turned in a sweat all night until Castiel had woken him with coffee.  
'Can we take a break?' Temperance wandered into the room, dressed in her jeans and shirt as usual. 'I am fucking wrecked.'  
'Me too.' Dean muttered, putting the tea kettle on the stove for her.   
'Hey!' Sam, brightening up flashed them a smile. 'Why don't we go to a gig.'  
'A gig?' Castiel asked, his kind eyes uncertain.  
'Music.' Sam explained 'Lets go see a band in a bar. Like normal people.'  
'We aint normal people.' Dean couldn't help but smile though 'Sounds good, think of all the hot girls we could meet on a dance-floor.' He looked wistfully over their heads, Sam snorted into his drink and Castiel was left glancing at the wall as if it could give him answers.  
'I would like to listen to music, but Heaven is calling.' he said, 'Perhaps on my return we could attend another social event.' Then he vanished.  
'Strange man, that one.' Temperance picked up her tea,.

Dean had spent weeks trying to get the Mitsubishi repaired and hated himself for failing, he didn't have the parts and the thing was totaled.   
In the end he gave in and found and add for a decent Ford Capri, it had 4 previous owners and needed new electrics, he got Castiel to drop him out to the seller and bought it for almost nothing after trading the mitsubishi. He spent a weekend on the electronics, panicked, then showed it to her.  
It had a long front and a short rear end, he thought it would be the type of machine she liked to drive, smaller and narrower than his Impala, with a front wheel drive. It tended to squat under speed, but it handed like her Mitsubishi had.  
She had been stupidly happy about it. She had kissed him on the cheek and not seemed to care about the powder blue paint job and crappy rims.  
The nearest live music venue was a two hour drive away. Temperance insisted they stay in a motel and not drive back that night and the brothers, reluctantly agreed. The bar was decorated with posters and old instruments and advertised an array of beers and whiskey. The place was filling up with people, a group of students on break from college piled in after them.   
'Do you reckon that band is any good?' she asked, nodding to where a trio of hairy men and a hairier woman were setting up instruments. She pointed at a Cocaine Piss logo on the bassist jacket and smiled. 'Class!'  
Sam shrugged 'As long as its not classic rock?' he had been much more easy going since they decided to take a break.   
'I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that!' Dean said, putting down two bottles and a whiskey. Sam sniggered, shacking his head, and Temperance stuck out her tongue, picking up the whiskey glass while he chuckled.  
'This place is cool.' Sam said, looking around. 'It feels like forever since we just went out.'  
'It has been forever!' Dean said, looking around, he noticed Temperance was making eyes at a girl with short brown hair and ears full of piercings. He raised his eyebrow at her when she turned away and she shrugged.  
'She's too young for you.' he joked.  
The music began with a rolling bass and Temperance's head came up, her eyes widening. 'Xcuse me' and she was gone. Dean looked after her, bemused as she merged with the crowd on the dance-floor.   
'She dances sober?'  
'Quite well, actually.' Crowley appeared at their side, making them jump.   
Dean spared him a glance but found his eyes drawn back to the woman. She moved perfectly, it wasn't dancing it was, something else. He wasn't the only one who noticed, everyone around her seemed to react. She existed perfectly, there, in that moment, she was joy itself.  
Crowley snorted 'She's half Angel, after all.' The song ended and she returned, greeting Crowley with a one armed hug.   
'Hello you!'  
'I thought I would visit.' he said, kindly then he eyed her critically, from head to toe. 'I didn't buy you that.'  
'I do sometimes buy my own clothes.' she said, holding out the edges of her sheer black blouse, it was transparent enough that you could make out the pattern of the lace on her bralette beneath it.   
'Well its awful looking.' Crowley sniffed. 'Those fishnets aren't much better.'  
'Why do you hate me, my love?' she joked, knocking him aside with her hip and picking up her drink.   
Dean toyed with the idea of asking her to dance, she was moving in time with the beat, chatting away to his brother. Crowley caught his eye with a knowing smirk, raised his glass slightly in salute.   
Scowling he looked away, there was a long haired blonde in a slinky dress at the bar, she looked his way, taking her time sizing him up. He stood up, walked over, 'Buy you a drink?'  
She tittered 'Sure, I'll have a vodka and red bull.'  
He chatted with her, she sipped her drink, leaving shinny lipgloss staines on her straw, about 10 minutes in he hit a wall. He ran out of things to say, he glanced at the dance floor 'You wanna?'  
She shimmied against him, it felt good to be touched, to be wanted. He was bending in to kiss her when he caught sight of Temperance and suddenly all his desire fled.   
She had returned to the floor, the thumping drums and screeching singer had called her back. Her hair had come loose from bouncing around, the overhead lights caught the shine of it as she moved. She was dancing with a girl, who couldn't take her eyes of her. As he looked, his feet came to a stop, he couldn't dance anymore he could just look. Temperance leaned forward and kissed her. Gently, messily as she didn't stop dancing really. She was smiling when she pulled back, laughing maybe. He wrenched his eyes away.  
He left his partner on the floor and stumbled into the bar, he saw Sam and Crowley lining up shots on their table and grabbed the nearest one.   
'Easy!' Sam laughed, slapping him on the back.   
He coughed and spluttered 'What was that?'  
'Tequila.' Crowley said. 'Special vintage from the Mountains of Madness.'  
'Oh?' Temperance had appeared, sans lovestruck student and plucked up a glass. 'I haven't had that in ages.'  
'Hell liquor? Really?' Dean shook his head and his brother took his shot with slightly more dignity.  
'Whats that gonna do to us?' he asked.  
'Nothing much.' Crowley grinned 'It's packs more of a punch than yours is all.'  
The night seemed to pass in a haze of sweat, music and laughter. Crowley took off his tie at one point, which seemed hilarious to Dean, who was about three shots into the bottle of Hell Tequila.   
Suddenly the club was closing and they were tumbling arm in arm into the night. Crowley had an arm around Temperance, she was stumbling as she walked, laughing at her own feet. Dean wanted to help her, but he was currently being held up by his brother who was swaying dangerously.   
They made it to the motel and fell about the room. Crowley lowered Temperance into the couch and slid down onto the floor.   
'You're drunk' she slurred.  
'Am not'   
Dean found he was almost asleep, but managed to snort a small laugh, maybe more of a snore. Next to him Sam was spread out, unconscious.  
Temperance slipped under, falling into a dreamless sleep, leaving Crowley to struggle up, cover her with a blanket and say 'Fuckin' adore you. You know that?' then he vanished, in a snap. Dean, on his bed, wondered if he was dreaming or not. 

The following morning was only bearable after a dose of healing and copious amounts of greasy food. They drove at a leisurely pace towards home, Sam gave them a running history of the area which Dean pretended to listen to, while Temperance pulled faces at him in the mirror. She was driving them in her new car, he was glad he had found a stick shift for her.   
Dean watched her through heavy lidded eyes. He savoured the fleeting expressions flitting across her face, the mask wasn't on anymore, and it was rare now that she spoke from behind it, in her bored, flat voice. He realised, with sudden shock, that this is who Crowley saw. This woman was the one that he knew.   
Dean felt irritated beyond belief as he sat up, scowling, why was he envious that Crowley knew her first, knew her best for a while. Dean knew her plenty now, he was as close to her as that bastard had ever been. He glanced at her again, fixing his seat belt. She flashed him a smile, then looked back to the busy road. They pulled into the drive at dusk and dispersed.

Temperance wandered to her music room where she picked up the cello after months of neglect. Her fingers had not softened, she remembered her notes. There was a thick sheaf of classical music that she rarely touched, it reminded her too much of being a kid, but she looked at this now. Bach, Beethoven, the usual suspects. She went with Bach, surprised to find that she could think about how much he dad liked this song without wanting to break something. She felt no anger, no pain, just a far away grief of loosing a parent. She fell into a tune from an old Italian film, working her way through to the last song her dad had heard her play on the cello. The song for the school concert, the stupid, god awful U2 cover. He had liked it. She played it. When she had enough she returned the bow and instrument to its case, tided up the notes.   
'Hey.' Dean knocked on her door. 'The band reminded me, you never played me your greatest hits.'  
Temperance looked a question at him, where she sat holding the cello.  
'Before Cain.' he said, shortly, before she killed herself and rose as a Knight of Hell. 'You said if we survived you would.'  
'Oh yeah!' she looked at her hands. 'Well I've been working on one for a while, its not finished though. You can give me some input.'  
'Yeah? Sweet!' He sat down expectantly while she got ready  
'How come you never play the bass?' Sam was watching from the door, his eyes on the battered electronic instrument. The fret board was scuffed bare with use, peeling stickers and faded marker covered the once cherry red finish.  
'It was Constantine's.' she said, fondly 'He was in a band called Mucus Membrane.'  
'Thats exactly the type of name I would expect his band to have.' Dean snorted. 'Huh, I think I've heard of that band, weren't they around in the 70's?'  
'Yeah, not exactly punk, not exactly new wave.' she said 'Entirely shit, if you ask me.'  
'Shit, Tem, how old was Constantine?' Sam asked, counting on his fingers  
'63.' Dean grunted  
'What? He looked like, I don't know, 45, tops!.'  
'Magic.' she shrugged 'Does funny shit to you.' She glanced down at the Mark, magic did really fucked up things to you, she had proof. 'Right, this song, tell me what you think.' She had two loop pedals at her feet and began plucking the instrument softly, before moving onto the bow when it sounded right, letting the first part play back on repeat. When the next bit was right she hit the other pedal and opened her lips.   
Accompanying herself she sang, wordlessly, against the music, eyes closed, brow furrowed as her hands worked a melody out on the cello. She had been writing it for a while, in drips and drabs, but it was only coming together now.  
Some songs, she reasoned, needed an audience. This song was for Crowley, or it was about him anyway. Comforting, soothing, devilishly sweet. She wasn't sure how it ended yet but she let it play out and kicked off the loops. 'Eh?'  
'That was beautiful.' Dean said, he looked at his brother who just nodded in agreement.  
'Thanks! Give me another week to fiddle around with it, it needs a better ending.'  
'Does it?' Crowley had appeared, they all jumped. He bent to scoop up her discarded notes 'Sounds perfect to me.'  
'No, it just cuts off in the middle, like.' she began to pack away the instrument. 'Needs something more.'  
Dean and Sam looked at the Demon warily. He seemed to be agitated, his jaw clenching and unclenching.  
'I have news.' he said at length, looking away from Temperance's probing eyes. 'About the Book of the Damned.'  
Temperance straightened up, knuckled white on the bow. 'Yes? Do you know where it is?'  
'I have a good lead to its last known location.' he said.  
'Where?'  
'A library in Spain, or rather, the crypt beneath one. Run by friars back in the day.' Temperance saw how hard he was trying to appear casual and she wasn't sure what to make of it. She looked at him, tried to get him to look at her, but he wouldn't.  
'OK? How do I get there?'  
'We.' Dean put in, rolling his eyes 'Come on Crowley, lets go to the war room and talk this through.'  
He wouldn't meet her eyes as he turned to follow the brothers, but she saw that he was nervous. He rubbed his knuckles when he was nervous, possible the only tell she had ever picked up on him.  
Seated around the map table he seemed to find his swagger once more and detailed how difficult the search had been and how clever he had been to find it. Temperance couldn't help the roll of her eyes, but squeezed his hand to say thanks.  
'Tomorrow or now?' She asked, knowing they had a small window of opportunity.   
'Now.' Dean nodded, standing up to gather his weapons.   
'Its a library Dean, do you really need a gun?'  
He cocked his head to the side 'Crossbow is quieter.' he nodded, making Sam laugh into his sleeve. 

The library was old, the tall shelves were made of carved oak, stained dark by the passing of time. The crypt entrance was marked with a neat bronze plaque, the heavy boor behind a decorative wrought iron gate. Crowley broke the lock with a snap and they all crowded forward.  
Temperance took a careful step and help up the torch, a long neat row of sarcophagus ringed the perimeter of the room, they were all plain and unadorned, their once chiseled edges were rough with age and smoke darkened from the fire that had destroyed the priory.   
In the centre of the floor there was a rune traced in pale enamel on the tiles. She bent to this, but couldn't make it out.  
'Sam?'  
He crouched down, his fingers stretched to touch the decoration. As he brushed the surface an unseen power seemed to pick him and Dean up and fling them back up through the door, it splintered on its hinges as something rattled it.   
'Ouch' she looked out at the wreckage, the brothers were sprawled in a pile of old books.   
Sam was groaning across the room   
'What was that?'  
'Dunno, some magic bullshit' she walked over, bending to help him. 'Are you alright?”  
'Yeah, just, dazed?'  
Crowley looked unphased. 'Warding against humans, very strange that. Did you feel it?'  
'No' she shook her head, a troubled look on her lips. 'Answer to that theory at least.'  
'Lets spread out, Dean and I will search up here and you guys go down there.' Sam pointed, scrambling to help Dean up.  
'Go down?' Crowley smirked 'Well, I'm not one to shirk my responsibility.'  
She snorted and elbowed him in the ribs 'Cheeky.' she went to the door and kicked it open He followed her, holding her torch 'Be careful, dearest.'  
'I'm always careful' her eyes were sparkling, mischievously and he found himself grinning in response.  
'Really?' He cupped her cheek, as he had done many times before, but this was different, the faintest blush spread over her face and her lips, trembling, parted for a breath. He froze, his eyes drawn down to those lips, she felt his thumb hesitated on her cheek bone and begin a curious descent down, down, to her mouth. It tugged the flesh apart, she knew that he must feel her hot breath there, across the worn thumb print, sensed the slightest stirring of her tongue. She knew her face must be burning red, she wasn't sure what to do, how to do anything. Her mind was in overdrive until, with a start he pulled back, clearing his throat and looking away from her lips.   
'Well, its not going to unearth itself.' he said, briskly.  
The smallest of the stone tombs held the remains of a woman, her bony fingers clutching a dark leather-bound book. Crowley wouldn't let her touch it, bending down to murmur spells over the cover.   
'It should be alright.' he said, frowning, carelessly tugging it free of its resting place and blowing dust away. He opened the cover, she glanced over his shoulder at it and immediately felt a stab of pain though her eyes.  
'Agh!' she clapped her hands over her face, bloody and something thinner and more viscous streamed out from her eyes. She concentrated very hard on healing herself while Crowley fretted.'Its ok, must be warded.'  
'It didn't harm me.' he said, 'Though I can't make heads or tails of it.'  
'Lets get out of here.' she urged.   
'Its dark and weird and my eyes are bleeding.'

He brought them back to the States and handed the book to Sam to translate.   
'Why did it hurt her?' he asked, glancing at Temperance, who's eyes were still red and puffy.  
'Warded against Angels, perhaps?” Crowley looked at her in concern.   
'Lets not test it out, lets keep it for human eyes only and see what we find.'  
'Allow me to help.' Castiel emerged from the shadows, his usual neat figure in disarray.   
'What happened!' Dean hurried to him, helping him to sit down. 'You get beat up?'  
'Someone take your lunch money?' Crowley mocked, until Temperance smacked him.  
'Heaven is at war again.'  
'Great.' Dean muttered darkly.   
'I cannot go back.' Castiel explained, a great sadness in his voice.   
'Michael's armies cast me down.'  
'Cast you down? Like, took your Grace?' Temperance asked, putting a concerned hand on his arm.   
'Can you heal?'  
'My Grace is diminished, but not gone.' he sounded exhausted.   
She put her palms on the side of his head and opened her heart to him, pouring life and energy into his battered body until he was whole once more.   
'Thank you, Sister.' he gasped, shaking his head experimentally.   
'Come on, lets get you lying down.' Dean urged, pushing him back on the sofa. 'You need anything buddy? Water? Anything?'  
'No, thank you.' his voice fading 'I shall lie here a moment.'  
They watched in shock as the Angel fell asleep, Dean's eyes wide as saucers. 'Can they do that?' he asked, in a hushed whisper.  
'No.' Temperance shook her head, sharking a worried look with Crowley.   
'No they can't.'


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I don't have a fucking clue where I am.' she decided, looking left, then right, East, then West. The houses crowded forward over the road, in a twee tudor style. Heavy beams, shingle cladding and thick stone. The small windows were mullioned and dull. It had to be England, or well, Britain. It reminded her of a story book, not in a good way, it set her teeth on edge.....
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

A week passed, not gently, there was chaos out there, they could all feel it. Castiel returned, slowly, to health and left to unite with the rebel Angels who fought against Michael's rule in Heaven.   
Late one night, unable to sleep, Temperance went to the kitchen, lit a lamp and made tea. The Mark on her arm had been bothering her non-stop since the Virgin. She could feel the curse rippling under skin, embedding itself into her cells. It itched, it burned. She flexed her muscles, wrapping her hand around the chipped mug.   
She knew, somewhere in her heart, that Constantine wouldn't have been able to get this off her. It was a curse wrought by god, it was the first bad thought in the universe.  
She touched the skin, it was warmer than the rest of her body. Constantine had kissed it, he made a point of kissing it. His chapped lips on her warm skin, she shivered at the memory. He had told Dean that he would be waiting for her at the end of all things. Something rotten inside her spoke, something she tried to bury. She didn't want him to. She wanted him alive, and she wanted to die before him. He was the man who lived, he had the passion and energy and drive and maybe, yes, it was full of self hatred, but it was human.   
He was human and she was not, what ever she had tricked into being human had died in the barn with her father. She considered her options and, hating herself a little more, concocted a plan. Constantine's journal was right where he had left it, horizontal on a shelf in the library. She took it in both hands and heaved a deep breath. Time for more magic.

'I get it now.' She explained to Crowley, having interrupted him at work.   
'Magic, I mean, I understand where I was falling down before. Besides, what I'm proposing is almost a curse itself, and they are the type of magic that I'm good at anyway!'  
Crowley scowled in the face of her optimism and beckoned her to follow to his chambers. 'I don't think you should do anymore magic.' he said, when the door closed behind them 'Whatever is in the Book of the Damned will do it, we just need to translate it.'  
'But I can't read it.' she insisted, sitting on his carved desk.   
'You and I both know that the odds are against me in this one, if the Book does have a spell then I wont be able to perform it.'  
He fiddled with the laces on her boots, sitting forward in his seat. 'Well, what nonsense spell is it that you propose, darling?'  
She took John's journal from her pocket and opened it to the right page. It was a strange bit of magic, not his invention as far as she could tell. 'Its a bit like a Blood Sigil, only rather than curse my blood I want it to find my blood, my past blood.'  
'So a little bit of a locator and a little bit of a cruse with a sprinkle of time travel thrown in?' Crowley threw the book aside with a laugh. 'Temperance, don't make me point out the folly in this type of experiment.'  
'I mean, yes, I might end up in a child's body, or like, you know, stuck in a weird time loop, but the odds are slim!'  
'There are still odds!' He stood up, angrily, more angry than she would have expect him to be. A vein was pulsing in his temple and she could almost hear his jaw grinding. He was breathing hard through his nose and his face was very close to hers, very close.  
She flushed, remembering the incident in the crypt, but couldn't help her eyes darting down to this lips.   
He was a Demon, he didn't miss much, he certainly did not miss that and he paled, tension leaving his body as quickly as it had come.  
'Temperance?' his hand rose to brush aside a strand of her hair that was hanging loose at her ear.   
She kept her eyes glued to his, chewing on her tongue from a sudden burst of nervous energy. He was getting closer, his hand left her hair and went to her neck, his thumb pushing her chin up so that their faces were more aligned. She had never seen him look so serious before, he looked almost ill, and she didn't know what to do. She didn't know what she wanted to do. He was her best friend, she loved him, he was her best friend, best friends didn't kiss, best friends didn't want each other.  
A resolute knock on the door made them both jump. A babble of Demonic voices rising in the hall. His eyes flashed red for a moment and he stomped to the door and opened it.  
'What?' he hissed. Then looking back at her, with eyes full of promises he said. 'We can talk about the spell later, darling.'  
Understanding herself to be dismissed she hooped off the table and went on her way, back to Earth, to lock herself in her bedroom. 

Dean was more easily convinced about the magic, though he asked, not unkindly 'Has the Mark been bothering you that much?'  
It had never stopped bothering her, she had just gotten better at pretending that she didn't want to bathe in the blood of the innocent. She shrugged, saying truthfully 'I don't want it, its not my curse to bare.'  
There was a place near by, in the woods, that John had said was good for doing magic. She had scoped it out, there was a feeling there, a sort of stillness in the air like in the Soft Places. She took the brothers here, anxious to make a start.  
'Its a type of curse. It sort of links you to your body in the past, technically, we should be able to find me who doesn't have the Mark and drag that part of me forward. I think that should banish the Mark here and now. The difficult part is finding me, Cain had me warded for almost my whole life.'  
'So, you think this is the way to do it? Time is, look, time is time, if we mess around with it who knows what will happen! It could cause reality as we know it to cease to exist.' Sam hated this, he was anxious and kept trying to get her to slow down.  
She couldn't she needed to try, she had to try. Every day she felt less and less human.  
'Relax, it's a stellar fucking plan. I think it's what Constantine would have done.' she pressed on, clearing leaves and debris to form a neat circle and placing a silver bowl inside it.   
'If not we can go to plan b and translate that Book.'  
Sam exclaimed, his eyes wide as he read through the spell. 'This? Did this work for John?'  
'I don't fucking know, he's fucking dead!' she sat back on her heels, scowling. She had to do this, it was the only thing she could think of, she didn't want to live the rest of her life with the Mark. It was going to be a long fucking life and she didn't want to turn into Cain.  
'Look, worst comes to worst, nothing happens. It will either work or it wont, end of.' She didn't add the 'I think', but the unsaid words seemed to hang over them. Sam's frown deepened.  
Dean was bent over a bundle, making a small fire. 'You've said that before.'  
'This doesn't use the Dreaming or any other realm as a portal. It uses the spell caster's own body. It wont hurt me.' she urged.  
'I don't know, guys. Something just seems wrong.' Sam's hands were huge around the book. He brought his troubled eyes up to his brother, then to Temperance.   
'I'm not a Mage, none of us is, we don't have the type of power that John had.'  
Temperance looked up from the silver bowl, a flutter of panic rising in her gut, but she was interrupted, by Crowley.  
'You don't, but I do.'  
'You can work this?' Dean asked, bouncing to his feet.   
'I can certainly try. Hex bag ready?'He held out his hand for the journal, he looked very serious.  
Dean had begun tying the hex bag, he threw this to Temperance, inside her circle and began to spread the the flames around her, while the Demon flicked through the incantation.   
'It's Aramaic.' he noted, taking a deep breath. 'Ok, kittens, lets rock and roll.'  
She breathed a sigh of relief and tucked the hex bag into her neckline, rolling back her sleeve and holding the knife, ready to cut when he spoke.   
Crowley's calm, deep voice, began the chant, which seemed to echo around them, picking up resonance from voices that were not there. Rain began to fall and his words rebounded through the clearing. She slashed the blade down on her arm, pouring blood into the silver bowl. Stabbing the knife into the ground as an anchor, she ripped open the hex bag with her teeth and poured the herb and magic mixture into the bubbling blood and rain water.   
She could feel a pull, the pull, of time around her. It was working, it was actually going to work. She just had to find herself, her body that was, she began to focus her thoughts on that. It wasn't that long ago that she had been free of it.  
A twig snapped near by and she glanced round, her eyes locking with Crowley. In an instant she felt herself untether, something dragged her up and around and she was tumbling and she couldn't breath and then a screaming rush of colour as she lost her balance.

She slammed into the ground, forcing the air from her lungs. Winded, she sat up, gasping for breath. It was the evening, still, she just didn't know what evening.  
The trees seemed different, more dense, the foliage heavier on the ground and everything was glazed with frost.  
'Ah shit.' she stood, brushing herself down. She found a trail and followed it, eventually the woods thinned out and she was on a wide dirt road, a walled town not to far away. She discovered, with a groan, that her knife was gone and berated herself for not having another.  
Night had fallen by the time she reached the settlement, and cold had poured into her from the ground up. There was something off, something missing, she couldn't decided what it was and she had to admit she felt a little frightened. She just needed to know where she had landed and she could work out everything else later.  
The air smelled very clean, rain washed, she took a lung-full to try and taste the time on her tongue. All she felt was the cold earth, distant woodsmoke and something sour under the clean air. She passed under a tall arch, found a cobbled street that led to a wide square with a fountain in its centre.   
'I don't have a fucking clue where I am.' she decided, looking left, then right, East, then West. The houses crowded forward over the road, in a twee tudor style. Heavy beams, shingle cladding and thick stone. The small windows were mullioned and dull. It had to be England, or well, Britain. It reminded her of a story book, not in a good way, it set her teeth on edge.  
She went down an alley, at random, night had fallen quickly, she needed a focus She needed to see another human being. She didn't panic, it was a fantastic trait from her father that she rarely gave into panic, she allowed herself to be frightened but that fear did not rule her.   
She closed her eyes, took several icy breaths. Somewhere in her heart there was a tug, a flutter, a pull towards something missing. She went with that.  
Her feet took her down a dark lane, the houses almost touched above her, leaning threateningly down. She could hear something, something stirring, a door opening and loud voices cut off short. She saw the three men scuffling down a miserable lane, the largest one had fallen to the ground and the two others set about kicking him.  
'Hey!' she shouted, running down. One of them whipped around, she punched him in the jaw, kicked the others feet out from under him. They clattered away over the cobbles and she bent over their victim  
'Are you alright?” she put out a hand. He raised a bloodied head, a square face, bright blue eyes and ginger hair, going grey. His pale skin was mottled from the cold, and the blows. He grunted, stood up unsteadily. He was tall, very tall and broad, a waft of booze on his breath. He looked down at her, blankly. Those eyes.  
'Gus!' she latched onto his wrists. 'Fergus MacLeod!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next one is a bit fluffy, not too sure how much I like it.  
> All comments are welcome! Many thanks for the kudos <3


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I'm a monster. My mother was a Demon and I was raised on earth to be a killer, but I just wanted to be normal. I'm a musician, I'm a punk, I think I might have a drug dependency but I pretend that I don't. I'm a mess. I'm your best friend, but I think I'm a bad one.'......
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

'You know me woman?' a thick Scottish accent, a scowl in his tone and he eyed her with mingled distrust and disdain. Yeah. That was him.  
'I'd know you anywhere.' she smiled, she couldn't help it.   
It didn't matter what skin he wore, she'd see him, shinning through. Though it was terribly strange to have him be this tall, it was like being around Sam.   
He staggered, from drink or from his injuries, she couldn't be sure, there was blood on his face and more on his hands.   
'Let me help you home, you're hurt.'  
He slumped against the wall, fingers gesturing to a half open door. She kicked it open and pulled him inside. An oil lamp had been knocked over, but was still alight, she set it upright and trimmed the wick, while he slumped against a long wooden counter top.   
It was a shop, with a jolt she realised it must be his shop, assuming this was the past and not some fever dream from over exposure to magic. In the dim light she could see that his face really was a mess, he needed help.   
A quick search of the back room revealed a kitchen, he had no medical supplies to speak off but she found clean cloth, needle and thread and a jug of water to tend to his wounds with. She dabbed carefully at his split lip.   
'How are your teeth?'  
'Intact.' he grunted around her fingers.  
She moved to his knuckles, cleaning the grazes with care and precision. His hands were freckled and calloused, working hands.   
'Who were they? The men you were brawling with?'  
'One of them owes me money. The other is a friend of his, or a cousin.' he cut off with a grunt as she pulled shards of pottery from his skin. He squinted up at her, maybe sobering up enough to realise that he did not know her in the slightest.   
'Who the fuck are you?'  
Now there was a question, she put down the cloth and threaded a scalding hot needle, she had put into the lamp flame to sterilize it, and gathered her thoughts.  
'I'm your best friend. Now, try not to squirm.'  
His big hand fell on her wrist, holding her still. 'Once more, I think I may have hit my head rather hard on those cobbles.'  
'Fergus MacLeod. I know you, we are very close and I am here by accident and need you to help me get home. However, all that can wait until I patch you up and you're sober.'   
She needed time to process this, she needed to sit very still and think about what year it was and why the hell this had happened. She worked away on him, he stayed silent for a spell.   
'What is your name, woman?' he asked, eyeing her up with a sneer.  
'Temperance.' she tied the bandage neatly around his hand and resisted the urge to plant a kiss on it, just about.   
'You sound foreign?' his words were a bit slurred and his accent was thick.  
'I lived most of my young life in Ireland. Grew up there. I was born in Italy, moved to Ireland when I was 6, left when I was 16.'  
'And now?' his eyelids drooping.  
'America, via Amsterdam and France and a brief stint in Germany.'  
He stood, swaying slightly, her hands came up to steady him.   
'I need to lie down.'  
'Yeah.' she agreed, wondering if he would remember this in the morning.   
'Lets get you to bed.'  
There was a narrow stairs that led up to the second floor, one long room with a curtain in the middle. The bed was a strange boxy looking thing, she opened the side of it and got him in.  
He fell into a quick, deep sleep, the moment his head hit the bedding leaving her alone with her chaotic thoughts. She wandered downstairs to the dying fire and threw a log onto it, then lay down with her jacket under her head and went through the spell, if she knew where they went wrong, she was sure she could fix this.  
She woke up in darkness, her own head pounding with a magical hangover. It took her a moment to orientate herself, to remember. She felt a strange absence, she couldn't place it, something missing, something gone. She managed to coax the fire back to life from ember, it cast a dim, ruddy radiance over the small living space.   
The fire was fitted with a rack and iron for cooking and the walls of the kitchen were lined with high shelves, a wooden table and a bench and one chair made up the rest of the furniture. There was a small screen folded by the door to the shop, three panels of plain linen between warped willow batons.  
It was spartan and rough, very unlike the Crowley that she knew. She reflected that of course he hadn't had time to learn his opulent habits yet, if she was indeed in the past, in his past, as she suspected. He was still human, still dirt poor. His wife and son might be knocking around the town somewhere, and she would very much like to find out.  
She checked on him, she didn't know much about concussions, he was asleep, breathing easily. 'Right.' she thought. 'Hot water, food.'  
She worked to have something to do with her hands, it let her mind wander. The spell had been going well until she lost her concentration, she must have latched onto Crowley and fallen, somehow, into his timeline. That brought her up short, she had no idea how to un-do it and no idea who this Crowley was. He was human, he must know about magic from his mother, but he was just an ordinary guy in an ordinary world. What could he do to help her. A swooping fear in her gut made her shudder, he wasn't even Crowley, not yet, he was Fergus.

He awoke to the smell of baking and sat up in wonder. It all flooded back, the fight, his strange rescuer. The dark haired woman in the odd clothing. He went down the stairs, treading heavily on the steps, he thought for a moment he might be dreaming.   
She, Temperance, was bending over his fire and pulling a loaf from the baking box. Her hair plaited back on her head, she turned when his feet hit the flags.  
'Morning!' she spoke cheerfully enough in her strangely melodic voice.   
'Breakfast?'  
He scowled, if this was a joke, some game being played at his expense he wanted nothing to do with it. He grabbed her wrist and drew her up to her feet, he squeezed until the bones must surely grind together. Snarling down at her he asked.  
'Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?'  
She didn't protest, did not flinch in pain or fear, she raised an arched brow and said.   
'Take your fucking hand off me or I'll fucking break it and feed it to you.'  
A rough chuckle rumbled in his throat at that and he threw her away, or he tried to, she moved with him and remained on her feet, inches from his chest.   
'I rescued you from certain, I don't know, pain, last night. My name is Temperance and I am having magic trouble and need you help.'  
'My help!' he sat at the table, sniffing the hot bread suspiciously.   
'Yes, yours.' she slid onto the bench and looked at him, a little hopelessly.   
She was beautiful, in a harsh way. Her face was sharp and her dark eyes had an unsettling glitter to them, but he wouldn't mind waking up next to her. Still on guard he tore a chunk of bread from the loaf and said, with his mouth full.   
'Explain, you spoke of magic' he lowered his voice on the word, cast a suspicious eye at the door. 'Have you a coven?'  
'I, look, I'm not a natural witch.' she shrugged her shoulders, tapping a long, square tipped finger on her plump mouth.   
'I think that this is the past, for me. I woke up here, out of place, in the woods beyond the town, after a spell we were doing together went awry.'  
He drank deeply from the water jug before shaking his head. 'I do not understand. I have never heard such nonsense.'   
One could not jaunt into the past with magic, it would take something more powerful than he had ever heard of to do that, more powerful even than his mother and her entire coven.  
'You were helping me with the spell, not you now, you in the future.' she spoke as if she didn't wish to, as if the words were being tugged out against her will. He looked at her in silence, she seemed lost and very out of place in her strange clothes. She took a breath and squared her shoulders, when she looked up the hard glitter was back, her lips pressed firmly together in determination.  
'It was a spell that was supposed to link me to my past body, but it seems to have sent me to yours.'  
'Nonsense.' was what he said, hardening his heart to the creature. She was trouble, he wanted nothing to do with her.  
'Time is set, there is no interfering with it. You're lying to me.'   
He waited for her rebuttal, for her denial, for some sort of hysteria. It must be some plan of his mothers, some further way to humiliate him. He should throw her out now, let her freeze.  
She raised a brow again, crossing her arms in thought for a moment, then she picked up her jacket and threw it at him. 'You made this, for me, its your work.'  
He fingered the fine silk lining, scarlet, under the heavy, supple, leather. He found it there on the joint of the sleeve, his signature stitch. A confusing little back hand, two short lines, one french knot. He put it down disbelieving.   
'I didn't make it. You wish me to believe I made this in the future?' he forced a hard laugh, scowling down at her. She was small, he could easily over power her. Though , he thought with a frown, she had not stumbled before, she had not fallen.  
She drummed long fingers on the table.   
'I am really not too sure how to convince you, but Gus, Gus, I need your help to get home and I don't know what the fuck to do! You are my friend and we take care of each other, I need help. Please help me.'  
He ate his bread, not meeting her pleading eyes. 'There must be something, some proof? I cannot believe this stupidity otherwise.'   
'I know a lot about you?' she touched a thin gold chain on her neck, pulled it from beneath her shirt. Her clothing was strange, he did not know the weave, or the cut.   
Perhaps whatever land she came from had this fashion, but not here, not in Britain. He took his time measuring her, her boots were worn, but looked sturdy and lived in. The coverings on her legs and torso left little to the imagination, he could see the shape of her easily. She had some muscle, she sat with her feet to the door, an eye on the exits.   
He reasoned that she was not a lady, or a merchants daughter, there was something of the caged beast about her, it made his spine stiffen and his hair prickle up. She felt dangerous in a way that he couldn't place.  
'Tell me something then, Witch, something no one could possibly know.' he decided, if she spoke vaguely, or poorly, he would pick her up and throw her outside. He had enough troubles without adding to them with this strangeness.   
She blew out a breath and tilted her head to the side. Resting a sharp cheekbone in her hand. 'You tried to kill your mother when you were fifteen.'  
He blanched, gripping the edge of the table to stop himself falling. No one knew that, not even Rowena, at the last possible moment his courage had failed him, or perhaps his sense had won out and he had not gone through with it.  
'You never told anyone that, only me and you only told me because I had to kill mine, my mother I mean.' her voice was low.   
'I know that you want to die, I know that you feel hopeless and that you just want to be loved. I know you.'  
'Stop' he whispered, cleared his throat. 'Stop.'  
She touched the back of his hand, her fingers warm, he wrenched his clenched fist away. 'Sorry to drag it all up.' she said on that low voice, laced with worry.  
'Am I, do I become a better man?' he had to ask, he felt he might believe her if she said it. He did believe her, or he wanted to believe her. He tried to never think about his foolish plans of matricide, he told himself that he needed nobody, no one. He was better off alone, but sometimes his eyes would wander to couples in the street, to families, and it poisoned him.   
He hated them for having what he did not and he hated himself for being what he was. He never thought anything would change, never.  
'You change.' she answered at length, nibbling on her lip.   
'You've always been good to me, despite your many violent, vicious and downright evil tendencies. You're my best friend and I love you, completely.'  
He started at that. 'Love?' he snorted, it was a trick, it must be.   
'You know I am a monster and you say you can love me?' She was young, beautiful, she needed his help and she told him he should do it for love. What did he know of love, love was a weakness.  
She rolled her eyes. 'Sure, I never said I was a fucking saint.'  
He tried a different approach, his rapidly shifting distrust looking for failings in her tale.'How do you know that this is the past to you?'  
'I don't.' she shook her head.   
'It seems like the past, but for all I know its a parallel universe, a place beyond a place. The past would be easier to get home from.'  
His eyes traced her hands, capable hands, a small graze on her knuckle, callouses on her fingers. She had strength in her arms, he knew, and she looked solid, she looked real.   
'Explain the spell to me, Witch.' He knew of spells, his mother hadn't bothered to teach him any, but he had picked up on much over the years.  
The woman, Temperance, spoke in detail, ticking off the elements on her hands. He scowled at his plate, thinking. Deliberating. There was a way to tell, a way to find out if she was truthful.  
'I might know a way to assist, but.' his eyes flicked to her open, relieved face and back to his bread.   
'It may be painful.' he finished, lamely.  
'Pain never bothered me.' she slouched back, relief had relaxed her posture.  
'A reversal should do the trick, but you require the same moon.' he attacked his food, avoiding her dark eyes. 'So we should begin as soon as possible.'  
'What do we need?'  
He stood up, fumbling for tailors chalk. 'Stand still, I'll place a ward around you. Do not move!' he watched her cross the floor, to its exact centre and wait, she trusted him. He had given her no reason to.   
The ward was one of his mothers, it would trap the unwary who strayed into its border and force a confession from them, should they be thieves or vagabonds. He completed the mark with a flourish and sat back down, crossing his ankles and staring hard at her.  
'Gus?'  
'What is your name?'  
'Temperance.' she jerked her jaw back, frowning deeply at him before eyeing the ward. 'Oh.'  
'Oh, indeed.' he tore another lump of bread and chewed on it, whoever she was, she could cook.   
'Why are you here?'  
'A spell sent me, against my will, I don't know what went wrong.'  
He sat up straight, glaring now as he checked over the chalk. 'How do you know me?'  
'You're my best friend, we met in a bar in Paris when I was eighteen.'  
That stumped him he felt the hot weight of her gaze on him, she was angry, though she looked resigned to his questioning. 'If that is true.' he began.  
'It is!'  
'Then tell me this, why are we friendly?'  
'You never judged me for what my family is, you never cared about my power, you just cared about me. You were perfect and I needed someone like you. Someone who loved me for me.' her voice was steady, a tiny flush of colour on her cheeks.   
'What are you?” he settled on, standing now to face her, his foot on the lip of the ward. 'Tell me that.'  
'I would tell you without this.' she pointed to the markings.   
'I'm a monster. My mother was a Demon and I was raised on earth to be a killer, but I just wanted to be normal. I'm a musician, I'm a punk, I think I might have a drug dependency but I pretend that I don't. I'm a mess. I'm your best friend, but I think I'm a bad one.'  
His heart seized in his chest, a terrible constriction left him gasping for breath and he reached out to steady himself on the table. 'A Demon?'  
'Half Demon' she said, sadly. He scuffed the ward with his foot, breaking the spell, and sank into his seat. She just stood there, head slumped, in silence.

He had looked so horrified, she didn't think she would ever shake that image, he was afraid of her. He should be, she was a monster after all. She waited for him to order her away, waited for this one good thing to end. He was quiet, eyes wide as his mind reeled.   
'So, there you have it.'  
'I do not pretend to understand this, any of this.' his voice was sure and her head snapped up. 'But I will assist you.'  
'Thank you.' she went to the bench, keeping distance between them. She didn't want to frighten him anymore.   
'I've never seen that ward before.'  
'My mothers' he waved a hand at it, then rubbed his head.   
'It was no lie when I said a reversal would work for you, it should get you home, but you need the exact moon.'  
'I have to wait around for a month?'  
'Aye.' he nodded, he looked very tired, a bit shook. She poured him more water and looked around for something stronger.   
'Can I, stay, with you?' she hoped he would agree, prayed to something that he would agree. 'I've nowhere else to go. I'll help you out, do work and stuff in your shop.'   
He looked at her then, breathing heavily. 'Yes. You can stay.' he wiped his mouth and stood. 'But ye canna go out dressed like that. The town will have a fit.'  
She looked down at her legs, quirked an eyebrow. 'You haven't changed that much as it turns out.'  
He went upstairs, she heard him shuffling around for a while before he reappeared with a bundle of clothes in his hands. He was all business now, practical as ever. She was happy to see that was a human trait of his.  
'My wife, good riddance to her, left a few things.' He explained, shaking out a skirt, bodice and white thing that looked like a night dress, or hospital gown. 'Put on this shift and we can fit the rest.'  
She took it, ducked behind the screen and tugged off her jeans. This was a little surreal, a lot surreal in fact. She wanted this to be a dream but she knew it was happening, she knew this was real. She didn't have the imagination for this. The shift was square necked and tied closed with two thin strings, it wasn't like a period drama on telly, there was nothing delicate and pretty about this, the linen was scratchy and stiff on her skin. She emerged out, feeling like an imposter in white. His eyes flicked to her, then away, he cleared his throat.  
'I'll measure you and cut these down, she were a mite stouter than you, taller too.'  
'Thanks.' cringing with embarrassment she stood with her arms out, like a doll as he pulled the dress on to her, marked here and there, then took them away to his shop.  
He seemed happy to be away from her so she left him to it, for a few minutes, until boredom and curiosity got the better of her.  
He worked at the long counter, head bent low on his shoulders, a pale winter light came through the poorly paned windows picking out details she hadn't noticed last night. There were bolts of fabric behind the counter, a wooden tray of pins and sewing implements and unless she was mistaken a bottle of brandy.  
'Aha!' she swooped in, picking it up and sitting on the counter next to him.   
'Hiding the good stuff!'

He tried to ignore her, she was sitting to near to him and moving too easily around the shop. His eyes kept falling to her in wonder, she was so relaxed in his presence as no one had been before. She asked him questions, she listened, she teased and she offered assistance.   
'Can I help' she asked at length, spinning his scissors in her fingers.  
'Get away woman! I've seen your needle work and tis worse than a chid would do.'  
She elbowed him 'Well my own skin was my only practice.' she meant it to be funny, no doubt, but it sobered him, the embarrassed anger rushing away. He looked at her clothed arms, wondering. She followed his gaze and sighed.   
'Shit childhood.'  
He blinked and turned back to his work. 'I am sorry for it.'  
She fidgeted, uncomfortably 'Please just give me work to do.'  
'Get to the kitchen, do the house work as the other women do.'  
She was silent for long enough that he looked up, one eyebrow was raised, her lips pursed. 'You hate my cooking.'  
'Well, I'll suffer it if it means some blasted peace and quiet, Witch!' he grumbled, returning to the cloth before him. The plain grey fabric of the bodice was sturdy enough and the brown wool skirts would keep her warm. Winter had a tight grip on the town already.  
'I'm taking the brandy.' she declared, flicking off the wax topped cork with her thumb and tasting it.   
'Oh! Jesus! Never mind, you can keep it!'  
He chuckled at her displeasure, the apple brandy was an acquired, bitter, taste. He plucked the bottle from her open hand and put it back under the counter. 'Serves you right.' he chided, he heard her snort, then return to the kitchen.   
He still could not face her truth, it was easier not to think about it, there was no half Demon woman, that he would one day meet in Paris, in his home and he was certainly not helping her perform a complex ritual to send her back to the future. Such a course of events would leave him shaking, no, there was a woman in his kitchen, he was helping her, that would do for now. He would think more on this when he was alone, locked safely in his bed.  
When the night settled in he sighed, rolling his neck and returning to the apartments.  
She had scrubbed the place to a shine. The flags gleamed, the wood had been polished, the cobwebs and dust banished from the dark corners of the ceiling. She was bending to a pot of something wonderful smelling over the fire.  
'Soup' she said 'Ham-hock'  
He sat at the table, looking around with amazed eyes 'You work quickly.' he admitted as she slid a bowl towards him.  
'I'm fantastic.' She toyed with her food, and he tried not to show how enjoyable the meal was. He might know her friendship to be true, but he was working against a life-time of poor social graces. In his cruel mind, to show appreciation would give people power over him and he could not afford that, not ever.  
He shrugged off his harsh thoughts and nodded to the bundle. 'You need to try that on.'  
She flowed forward, took it and smiled, a secret smile, one he wasn't meant to see. He returned to his food, waiting.   
It fit perfectly, the white shift beneath was too large, but it didn't matter once the gown was on. He tried not to think about that, tried to look critically over it and not consider the flesh below. The bodice annunciated her trim waist, her figure wasn't boyishly flat as he had assumed, she curved as women did, just more gently than some.   
'Thank you' she did a little twirl, raising the sides of the skirts.   
'Do I look the part?”  
He found he had to suppress a smile 'Less like boy at any rate.'  
She rolled her eyes and fell onto the bench. 'Praise indeed. So, whats my cover story?'  
'Cover, what?'  
'What do I tell people about why I am here and staying with you?'  
'Can you not remain indoors?'  
'For a month? Fuck no.'  
He finished his soup, it really was good, and chased the last drops with a chunk of bread. 'You were married to my cousin, he has died and as a widow I am your only family. Can say he was in Inverness. No one will question it.'  
She nodded 'Thank you, for this, I'm sorry for the hassle.'  
He pushed the plates towards her. 'Clean the bowls and I will forgive all.'  
'Fuck off.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incoming fluff! Be warned! :D


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wasn't reading, her eyes were fixed at some distant point, something only she could see. Her lips were parted slightly, her hand tugging at the gold chain around her neck so that the metal left a little indent on her thumb. She came back to herself, slowly, and her eyes, grey and troubled, found his, it took her a moment to realise that she was looking at him, and then she smiled and he was lost.....
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

The winter was turning out to be unforgiving, ice and snow had settled into the town with vengeance, freezing doors shut and making the paths treacherous. The able boded men had been drafted to keep the roads clear of ice and he was up early to his rota, leaving her sleeping by the fire under his spare blanket. He worked steadily through the dark morning, and weak dawn.  
At midday he set down his tools to roll his cramped shoulders. Looking up he saw a slender figure approaching. She walked easily over the snow and ice, gracefully. It was interesting to see how instantly they all recognised an outsider from her walk, through she was dressed plainly as other townspeople. She had twisted her hair around her head, like a crown, and had no bonnet to cover it, in her arms she carried a basket he knew to be his own.   
'Here' she offered it to him, he could see she had brought hot food, straight from the oven and wrapped in a linen towel.   
'I'm getting very domestic.'  
He set down his shovel, wiping sweat from his lips and nodded towards the near wall. He sat under the covered walkway, to eat, gesturing her to sit with him. She looked cold, he eyed her critically, she had no cloak, no shawl. He shrugged out of his coat and threw it at her.  
'You shouldn't be out in this weather.' he could feel the eyes of half the town on him. She wasn't listening, or if she was, she paid him no heed.   
'Is there anything to do in this place? Do you have any books? Instruments? Places to go?'  
He glanced up at her, her face pleading. He felt the strangest need to make her smile.  
'The woods, they are safe towards the pastoral house. However, there is not much to see there, though he does have a pianoforte. As for books we can ask the school master.' he frowned down into his bowl   
She beamed, he caught the edge of it, he could feel her joy radiating like warmth from her body. 'Thanks Gus.'  
He chewed on the pastry, warm gravy bust over his tongue and he grunted in surprised appreciation. 'Is there not work enough for you in the house?' he wiped his fingers on the cloth, poking around to see if there was anymore. She snorted, he flicked his eyes over to her and scowled. She was smirking at him, at him!   
'There's more food in your, perfectly clean, house.' she slid off the bench and out of his jacket, passing it back to him. 'Which one is the school master?'   
The coat was warm from her body, from his, as he shrugged it on he caught a scent that must be her. Earth and rain and something he couldn't place, some incense that smelled like a lightning storm. He pointed with a blunt finger and shrouded himself in the warm cloth. Watching her from the corner of his eye as she made her way to the bean pole of a man, herding children through the snow.  
It was dark when he got back to the house, he felt desperately cold and ready for a drink. The street was already slippery with frost and most of the houses were shuttered and asleep. He knocked snow off his boots before clattering through the shop. Firelight guttered beneath the door. Strange to return to a house that was occupied.  
She was sitting on the floor with three books before her, one open. He watched her in silence a moment. She felt him there and looked up.   
'You're back.' she rose, easily and quickly shoved him behind a screen she had erected before the fire, a bath was waiting, steam spiraling into the frigid air.  
'Whats this?'  
'You have eyes' a little testily spoken, he heard the thump of the bench as she sat. 'Give us your wet things.'   
Huffing he stripped and sank in the hot water, the smell of lavender rose around him soothing his aches and pains. 'Did you leave me any other clothes?” he growled, unwilling to let himself enjoy a moment of this. How much coal must she have burned for this hot water, how much money had she wasted. If he had wanted a bath he was more than capable of drawing one up from himself.  
'Eyes.' she said, he heard a page turn and looked around him, a shirt and breeches were hung over the back of his chair. She had been in his room, he found that he liked that thought and had to reign in his imagination.   
He scrubbed himself down, uncomfortably. Is this why people married, he wondered, to have others look after their needs, to care for them. He had married for the child, his son, conceived in a drunken tumble. There had been no love there and when his wife had left him with the boy he had been relieved to see them go. Fixing his cuff he moved from behind the screen and caught her, for the first time, unawares.   
She wasn't reading, her eyes were fixed at some distant point, something only she could see. Her lips were parted slightly, her hand tugging at the gold chain around her neck so that the metal left a little indent on her thumb. She came back to herself and her eyes, grey and troubled, found his, it took her a moment to realise that she was looking at him, and then she smiled and he was lost. 

Who had ever looked at him so hopefully, kindly, so lovingly. She loved him. He felt his very soul leave his body and reach for hers, his heart thundered in his chest, all his blood coursing in his veins for her. Who was she, why was she, it didn't matter. She was his, he was hers.   
He had to force himself to breath normally, to cross the floor and not take her in his arms.  
'What gem is that?' he asked, to end the silence.  
She slipped it off over her head and laid the pendant in his hand. He tilted his palm to the light. It was a magnificent emerald, unfacated and cloudy. An imperfection, like a bolt of lightening in its centre, seeming paler than the surrounding stone, the pendant hung from the thin gold chain like a chunk of summer sunlight through green growing leaves.   
'You gave it to me.' she explained, as he nudged the stone with a finger. That brought his brows up, in shock. A gem of such a size would be worth a fortune.  
'I must grow rich in this future you hail from.' he considered the stone a moment, an emerald. He knew of course what that colour meant to him and what it must mean if he had chosen it for her. The bottom seemed to drop out of his stomach. 'Are we lovers?” he asked, suddenly.  
She laughed, a sharp sound. 'No, no we're not. You never wanted me in that way.'  
He looked at the stone and begged to differ, but stayed silent. In the language of his coven, emeralds meant life, completion, fulfillment. He would not give an emerald to a woman unless he loved her, truly. He tipped it back into her hands and sat at the table, pulling his work basket towards him. She plucked up her book and they went on in comfortable silence She did not know how the earth had just changed for him, she did not feel the bewitching warmth of love stir for the first time in her heart.   
He glanced down at her, her back against the leg of his chair. She was perfect, warm and capable, he wanted to reach out a hand and stroke her hair, he could imagine her leaning back into his touch. 'Read to me.' he said, to cover his sudden urge to weep.  
She raised her head from the page slightly and cleared her throat.  
'Past cure I am, now reason is past care,  
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest.  
My thoughts and my discourse as madmens are,  
At random from the truth vainly expressed,  
For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,  
Who are as black as Hell, as dark as night.'  
'I hate Shakespeare.' she pointed out 'Frantic-mad? Why bother with that like.'  
'He is a fine playwright.'  
'Reminds me of school too much. You have to study his works in school.' she rolled her eyes and dropped the book, toying with the pendant before slipping it over her neck. It settled beneath her collar, between her breasts and he found himself terribly jealous of its comfortable position.   
A knock sounded on the door, the door to the alley. She looked up as he moved to open the lock.  
Two burly men piled in, they didn't see her, intent on their prey. Gus, for his part, threw a punch before they got too near him. One of the men set on him, pinning him down, a sharp blow, a dull throb of pain.  
'You broke my cousins arm last time MacLeod.' a thin blade appeared in the mans hand, his skin was grubby, a smell of drink on his breath. 'Only fair we break something of yours.'  
Temperance stood, with a sigh, she wrenched the speaker back with enough force that his collar tore in her grip. Her fist moved before he could react, slamming into the mans gut and leaving him bent double, her knee followed, a short, sharp, crack as his nose broke from the force.   
She pulled his head back roughly, by the hair and growled at him 'Fuck off before I fucking kill you.' He scrambled away, blood dripping over his cheeks, then she turned to the second petrified man. All she did was scowl at him, and he bolted, they heard him slipping on the stone outside as she kicked the door shut.  
'Get off.' he grumbled, touching his bloody lip as she sought to help him up. She ignored his ire and led him to the table sitting him down.   
'You never keep your guard up, always leave yourself open to a smack in the face.' she cleaned his lip and tilted back his chin. '  
That will swell up.'  
Her fingers left hot prickling trails on his skin, he wanted to catch them in his hand, press them to his mouth.  
He hissed at a flare of pain. 'What do you propose I do about that?'  
'Stop getting hit in the face?' she pressed the cold cloth to his skin.   
It soothed the burning and he leaned into it. He could feel her thumb, so close to his lip, what would she do if he kissed that digit. He wondered if she wanted him too, if perhaps they were lovers and she did not want to speak of it. Why would anyone fight for him, why would she risk injury to stop further injury to him. She had barely broken a sweat beating that bastard down, she was like no one he had ever seen before.  
'You could kiss it better?' He didn't expect her to, so when she bent down swiftly and pressed a light kiss to his lips it was all he could do not to squeak.  
'Better?'  
'Yes' he voice shook, she gave him the cloth and sat down.   
'He owes you money? Do you want me to collect for you?'  
'What? No, good God woman. Its bad enough you fight for me! Leave me some shreds of my manhood.'  
'Oh hush.' she rolled her eyes, she seemed to do that a lot. 'I've fought loads of people for you. You love delegating.'  
He had to agree with that, he would much prefer to have people to order around to do his work for him. 'He could hurt you.' he said, not believing it as he said it.  
'No, he couldn't.' she brushed this off with a flick of her dangerous hands.   
'Get to bed, woman.'   
'It's cold' she pointed out.  
'Yes' he cleared his throat. 'It is quite cold.'  
'Too cold to sleep on the floor.' she insisted.  
'You can't have my bed! I'm old, I need my comfort.'  
'Thats my point exactly' she said, coyly. 'You're old, your lungs aren't what they were. Wouldn't do to get a chill, you could die before time and I'd be stuck here.'  
'Ah' he nodded, solemnly, picking up on her joking mood. 'It is your duty to care for me, then?'  
'Yes.'  
'So we should sleep together.' he took off his jacket. 'Purely for our health.'  
'Yes.' she clasped her hands together and bobbed a little curtsy 'Of course. Shall I warm the bed for you?'  
He swallowed, wild eyed, surely she was jesting. 'I will make up the second bed, it is not as large, but you shall not be uncomfortable.'  
'Thanks.' she let him pass her, up the stairs and he hastily began unrolling the mattress that had belong to his son. When she was tucked under the blankets he drew the curtain around her and hurried to his own bed. His face coming out in a bruise, perhaps that was why he found it so difficult to get to sleep.

Over the course of several days they fell into a routine, Temperance constantly had to remind herself that this wasn't Crowley, this was Fergus. Sometimes she forgot, she would say something and kick herself for giving away too much, not that he understood those slips of the tongue. She was fairly certain he wouldn't remember a throw away comment about Steve Jobs or the Bangles, but it worried her. The idea of some awful pre-destined course of time bothered her, that it was set in stone she would come back here, to him.  
It preoccupied her thoughts enough that she forgot that something about this place made her uncomfortable and she hadn't been able to pin down what it was. It took four days before she realised, four nice, ordinary days. The Mark was gone.  
She dropped a bowl on her foot and waited for a flare of anger that never came. She pulled up her sleeve, eyes disbelieving. It wasn't there, it was gone.  
'The spell worked.' she said, out loud and he put his head around the door to check on her.  
'Aye?'  
'Nothing. Sorry, ignore me, I'm talking to myself.'  
She needed air after that and slipped into the alleyway and out into the town. The Mark was gone. It was gone. A swooping, crushing, realisation that she was so much closer to being human than she had been in years. She stopped by the town gate, supporting herself on the stone.   
The sun was setting, the woods looked grim and uninviting, the town even more so as doors began to shut against the night. The past, she decided, was dead fucking boring. She couldn't do anything, she couldn't go anywhere. She was trapped.  
A throat cleared behind her and she spun around, trying not to look guilty. 'Ms MacLeod.' the school master spoke.  
'Temperance.' she said, blushing a little at the title. 'Please.'  
He took off his hat, held it awkwardly against his chest. 'Temperance, yes, well. Mr MacLeod spoke to me today, he said that you had studied music?'  
'Yes, the cello and.' she decided not to mention the drums, he would probably find it indecent or something equally irritating, these people were easily shocked. 'The piano.'  
'Wonderful! I wonder if I may request your services. I want to do music with the children, for I wish to put on a concert for the town at Christmas. Not a fine ball, you understand, but a gathering for the people.'  
'Yeah, em, yes. That sounds lovely, I would be happy to help.'  
'Excellent, ah, may I escort you home?' He gestured with a long arm.  
No, she wanted to say, no you may not, I can find the way back myself and I'm trying for some alone time thanks, but she didn't say that she made herself curtsey 'Thank you.'   
He didn't speak much of the way back, she was glad, chewing on her tongue to stop anything bursting out of her mouth, they'd probably still burned Witches around here.  
'I hope you are settling in well?'  
'Yes, very well, thank you. Fergus has been very kind.'  
'Has he?' he asked dryly 'I am glad, and please, if you need anything my door is always open.' they had reached the shop, he took her hand and bent over it. That was weird, she didn't like that, he was in her space, she could smell his blonde head.  
'Thank you.'  
'Come to the school house tomorrow at noon, you can tryout the new pianoforte!'  
'Goodnight.' she hurried to open the door.  
'Temperance?' Fergus looked up, blinking.   
'Where were you?'  
'Went for a walk.' she shrugged, hopping onto the counter and pulling herself over it. 'That teacher, master, whatever, guy asked me to play music for a concert he's putting on.'  
'The school master?' he followed her into the kitchen 'I spoke to him today about music for you.'  
'Thanks.' he looked very pleased with himself, it was exhausting to find herself shocked at his expressions. She knew them all, they were his expressions just in the wrong face, or, well, the right face. She couldn't keep up with it.  
He held out a white cloth. 'Try this on.'  
She unfolded it, a cap, a cloth bonnet. She had seen other women wearing these. 'Oh.' she fiddled with the ribbon for a while, then threw down the cap in irritation 'How do I put this on?'  
He sniggered, she knew that smug superiority too. 'Its upside-down.'

'I'm going to help the teacher lad out in his school, do music for the choir.'  
'Master' he said. 'Not teacher. Will you not be brining me lunch and causing the other workmen to go mad with jealousy?'  
She snorted, 'No, feed your fucking self.' she threw back her head, shaking out her hair. She wanted a distraction, she wanted music. 'Please tell me that summer isn't this boring?'  
'Its easier.' he said, buttoning up his coat. 'Come, you're restless, we shall walk.'  
She took his offered arm with an exaggerated curtsey and saw him try to hide a smile. He led her around the town, pointing out various shops, and the houses of the chief citizens, namely the local magistrate, the school master and the wealthier merchants.   
She thought he was rather enjoying himself, and relaxed against him as they walked to the school. It was a severe building with a high pitched roof and heavy double doors.   
'Hope I'm not too out of practice. Was never fond of the piano.' she admitted to Fergus as they entered the quiet room.  
'Ah, the skill never goes away, I hear.' the tall man, dressed soberly in black and grey hurried over and bowed. 'Madame, thank you for coming.' then turned to bob his head to in greeting. 'Mr. MacLeod.'  
He had plenty of music and she ran through the hymns and festive songs that he had picked out, children began to stream in after an hour or so. The choir sang to key at least.   
'Perhaps you can play a song from your home?” the school master asked, hopefully. 'The children should like to hear something new.'  
There was a corous of assent from the kids, who had shuffled around the instrument to watch her. 'A happy song?' she asked, picking out chopsticks, they bounced up and down as she sped up. 'A sad song?” she switched to a funeral march, making faces at them.  
Even the school master chuckled at that.   
'What of your own favourite song?' he suggested.  
'Ah.' Patti Smith might not go down well with this crowd, she tested out a phrase, thinking, then stopped. Oh, that sounded good, the Crowley song. The song she was writing for him. She smiled to herself and began again.

Fergus worked methodically, until the next round of men arrived to take the picks and shovels, and returned to the school house to collect Temperance. She was sitting at the pianoforte, the children in a circle behind her, listening. The Master was standing at her side, head dipped. It was a beautiful tune, tinkling and spritely, it lilted and fell. Fergus remained by the door and looked at her. A wisp of hair and tumbled out of her braid, it hung down her throat, bobbing with her head. She played with her eyes closed, a tiny frown pinching her brows.   
'Magnificent.' the school master beamed as she finished. 'Ah, I see Mr MacLeod has arrived for you. Children, thank Miss Temperance for her music.'  
A chorus of voices, she flushed and turned to leave.   
'Ah, a moment.' he hurried after her 'Perhaps, if you are willing, I would have the honour of a dance at the concert?'  
Fergus scowled at him and pulled her away 'Perhaps.' he snapped, waling her into the cold air. The chill chapped his lips .'  
What song was that?' he asked, a fluttering anger in his tone.  
'One of my own.' She paused 'I wrote it for you actually, haven't had the chance to play the full thing for you yet, so I am ordering you to not remember it.'  
'For me?' he asked, dumbly, he had never been given a song. '  
What is it about?'  
'Abstract fucking expressionism.' she stammered and looked down at her hunched in on herself, fingers under her arms. She huddled against him. 'Gus, It's freezing!'  
He berated himself, but he had no cloak for her. 'Quick, inside.' he gestured as they reached the shop.  
She stood shivering by the fire, hopping from one foot to the other, their breath clouding even indoors. He wrapped the blankets about her slender figure and bent to stir the flames of the fire and opened his arms.  
She was warm, nestled against his chest with unashamed familiarity. He put a cautious hand to her hair, those long silk stands were as soft as he imagined. 'I need to cut it.' she said, to his neck, her hot breath tickling his throat.  
'No, don't. Its quite beautiful.'  
'Did you just compliment my hair!' She pulled back to look at him.   
'You did! I'll never let you live this down!'  
He could look at her forever, she was lovely. The shifting light in her grey eyes could be a flicker of moonlight on a stormy sky, the firelight dripping from her shark cheekbones touched something inside him, something deep and unknown. He was a little afraid of her, she had a look that inspired fear but he didn't know what it was that caused it. Perhaps her Demon mother, or perhaps it was just the way she was. The smile slipped off her face, under the scrutiny of his long stare and she cleared her throat, stepping back.  
'Goodnight.'  
'Goodnight, darling.' he muttered, looking at the fire. He didn't see her stiffen on the stairs, he didn't see her pale and hurry away. He looked into the firelight and tried to think of a way to keep her.

She had drawn a bath, he could smell lavender wafting up the stairs and heard the soft, splashing sounds, of water on her skin. He grit his teeth, banishing the thought of her bare throat, her bare, kissable throat. She was naked, she was naked in his house. He screwed his eyes shut, shaking his head against the images flashing to the forefront of his mind. Had she no decency, had she no shame! He stood up, scowling, and pulled his clothes on with more force than was necessary. He stomped downstairs and was about to say something snarky, but what he saw stopped the words on his tongue.   
She must have been up for hours, was all he could think.   
The table was barely visible under a wealth of baked goods and she had made a wreath of greenery and holly berries for a centerpiece.   
'Morning.' she said, from behind the screen.  
'Good morning.' he sounded hoarse, he coughed. 'You have been busy.'  
'I used all your flour.' she admitted, appearing in her own strange clothing. She went to the table, pulled out a smaller wreath and dropped it on his unresisting head.   
'Happy Christmas.'  
He touched the crown, he felt like the rug had been pulled from under his feet. 'Happy? Yes. Christmas.'   
She had bent to the fire again and pulled the kettle free.  
'Pine needle tea, I'm not sold but Ray Mears swears by it.' she poured two cups and held one out to him, patiently.   
'Who?” he sank into the chair, the cup was hot against his fingers.   
'Never mind.' she brushed this aside, as she usually did when she poke of something or someone in the future. She drank her tea, plaiting her wet hair around her head. He watched, enthralled, scalding his tongue by mistake.   
'Will there be drinking at this concert?'  
'Yes.' he eyed the nearest pastry, delicately folded and crips.  
'Its apple.' she said, following his eyes 'Eat it.'  
He didn't need to be told twice, he bit into it happily. Hot apple, dried fruit and honey, it was wonderful. He nodded in appreciation. 'Who taught you how to cook?'  
'My dad.' she sat down and cut into a braided loaf of bread. 'He was a vegetarian, loved a good pie.'  
He glanced at her face, her tone had dropped suddenly, turning sad and thoughtful. She was rubbing her arm and looking down at her plate, but not eating.   
'Eat.' he urged 'You're skin and bones, woman.'  
She snorted a laugh and skewered him with a dark look. 'How are you exactly the same in so many ways?'  
'Can't improve on perfection.' he said, sucking honey off his fingers and winking. 

She wasn't nervous, but when they reached the hall her shoulders rose and she shrank against him. Almost every person in the town had turned out for the celebration, many that he would like to avoid. He caught the bruised face of his assailant quickly turning away.. 'What?” he asked sharply, stepping away from her with a scowl. There were eyes on him, on her, judging eyes.  
'The stage' she nodded with her chin, 'My backs to the room.'  
He glanced down at her in confusion but she was shaking her head and moving forward. The school master waved her over and she spoke a few words to hm before he nodded and, with the assistance of a few burly men, moved the instrument so she was side on to the crowd. He wasn't sure what to make of that, it seemed a habit with her, to keep the exits in her eye-line.   
The children were arranged, drinks were passed out and the first psalms began. Fergus knocked back a warming tankard of ale and found another, the high pitched keening of the youths was unbearable to listen to without a stiff drink. When they finally finished she played a few tunes, he liked them well enough, he watched her hands moving over the keys in silence as the table around him filled up. She cut a fine figure, too slender and he knew, too muscled, and too beautiful. Sharp and angular like a bird of prey. Her skin glowed with its own silverly light on that dusty stage, her dark hair shinning under her cap.  
'Now a song!' called out the elderly bakers mother, who had served the town as matchmaker in chief since her own daughters had been married off. 'Sure, you have a lovely voice.'  
Temperance cocked her head to the side and cleared her throat, uncertainly, he saw her look for him but he didn't step forward, enjoying the look of discomfort too much. She was too polite to say no.   
She played beautifully, the music wrapping around the hall and weaving through the crowd sweet and pure. They all fell silent to watch, to listen in awe. Her eyes were closed, a small frown creasing her brow as she played. Then her mouth opened and she sang, accompanying herself in perfect pitch.   
It was a love song, he couldn't follow the path of it, half poetic nonsense but it had feeling behind it. 'So I heard your heart beating, you were the darkness too, so I stayed in the darkness with you.' it fell into a slow overture and was done. Her hands dropping from the keys. The hall erupted in happy applause.   
'What about somefing we canne dance to?” a child's voice pipped up. She laughed and fell into a tune, a reel, with childish nonsense about a spider dancing with a flower. The children squealed with delight at that and after someone produced a fiddle and she excused herself, hurrying down trough the hall with her head bowed.   
'You play well.' he admitted, catching her elbow with a finger.   
She shrugged 'Years of practice, my dad was a stickler for music lessons.' She snatched the mug from his hand and downed it, pulling a face.   
'That tastes like the inside of a barn.'  
He nodded 'Yes, its part of its appeal' he took a pull 'Peaty.'  
Her face broke into a smile, an open, happy, wonderful smile he had never seen before. He wanted to see it again, he wanted to see it everyday. Her fingers curled around his arm and she laughed. 'Oh!'  
'Wha?” he looked around, rolling his shoulders. 'Get off me woman.'  
'Peaty, that stupid fucking whiskey.' she laughed, loudly. It did things to him. He felt a shiver slide down his spine. 'Sorry, its just, peat.' she shook her head, prettily, without further explanation.  
The townsfolk had begun to chant and dance, roars for more food and drink rising above the din. She opened her mouth to speak, but they were interrupted by the School Master, who bowed shortly and pulled her without a word into a reel. She looked horrified at first, but caught the step soon enough. She moved so gracefully he thought she must have been dancing her whole life, it wasn't particularly right, she didn't step as the others did. To his eyes it was as if there was extra momentum, more movement, somehow, in the lines of her arms, her hips. He spat on the ground as the Master's fingers curled around her waist. She looked up and caught his eyes, quirking a brow at the ugly look on his face.   
When the song ended she approached him, shrinking from the crowds 'I might head off home, I'm not in the humour for a press of people. Unless, you fancy a dance?'  
He wanted, very much, to dance with her. He wanted very desperately to hold her. He couldn't bare to do it though, not here, not with all them watching. He let her go, with a pang.  
Several tankards later he reeled through the streets on unsure feet and clattered through the door. She woke with a start and scowled 'Keep it fucking down'  
'Sorry.' he blinked, kicking off his boots, and entangling his feet together so that he toppled over.  
She sighed, he heard it over his confused groans and came to raise him up. Her long legs were bare, he stared at them.   
'How's it that we're not together, thee and me?'   
'Jesus, Gus.' she snorted, getting an arm around his side and lifting him easily. 'Do not talk to me about sex now.'  
'Why? Do you not wish to be lovers?' he asked, knowing he was drunk, not caring that he would regret this in the morning 'I would not give jewels to a woman if I were not in love.' he stroked her cheek clumsily. She sighed, he didn't like that, he wanted the smile again.  
'Lets get you to bed and we can talk about it in the morning.'  
'Come with me, to bed' he slurred, stumbling. She caught him around the waist and helped him to the pillow.  
'You're drunk.' she nudged him until he lay down and the world spun around him.  
'Yes.' he agreed 'But I'll still want you sober.'


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He bent his head to her and kissed her lips, a soft kiss. 'I will find you again.'   
> That was how she left him, there at the crossroads, bloody and ten years from death..... 
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

The morning dawned grey, cold and fearfully. Memory flooded forwards with the rising nausea of old ale. He staggered up and when he had puked up the contents of his stomach in the latrine and drank water straight from the pump he felt a bit better. Possibly he could pretend he didn't remember and she would let it all slide.  
'I recall little after the brandy' he muttered. Seeing she was awake, kindling the fire.  
She raised an eyebrow. 'Gus.' she stood, she was still in a state of undress and he looked quickly away. 'Listen, just, sit down and listen' She ran a hand through her long, loose hair, the pale winter sunlight licked out her shape beneath the cloth and he sat, his face to the fire. 'We first met when I was quite young and we've been close ever since. You saved me and I saved you and, well, we never judged each other. For the things we both did, for what we both became.'  
'Temperance, there is no need.' he began.  
She cut him off with a curt gesture. 'You were there when I killed my mother and I did that to save you. You were there when I killed my dad.' She touched his arm, but he did not look up.   
'You have always been there for me and you have never asked anything of me, or expected anything from me. We are friends, the closest of friends and I can't imagine my life without you, even though you have killed and tortured and perpetuated evil, even when you were cruel and scheming. You become my best friend.'  
'I understand.' he nodded, wishing he would vanish, pleading with the earth to swallow him whole. He touched her shoulder.   
'I understand, Temperance, truly I do. I am not yet the man you know.'  
She gave him a look he couldn't decipher, a look that seemed so helpless, that he felt her turmoil like a blow.   
'You're not.' she agreed 'But, somehow you really are.'  
His feet crossed the floor and he crushed her to his chest 'Forgive me.' he whispered to her hair.  
Her hands came up around him, holding him in turn. 'There never was anything to forgive.'  
He released her and went to hide in his shop, thinking about the emerald hanging between her breasts. Thinking about the man he might one day be.

The lords day broke with more heat than the previous weeks had offered, it struggled up just above freezing and the sun shone briefly in the cool sky. Fergus had spent much of his free time fashioning the cloak for his visitor and held it out for her inspection.  
'For me?'  
'Yes.' he looked her up and down. 'You need it for the sermon, the church is cold as hell,'  
'Hell isn't that cold.' she said distractedly, fingering the fabric 'Thank you.'  
'As for payment.' he began with a cheeky smile.   
'I think it is worth, at least, a kiss?'  
She looked up in mild surprise. 'A kiss?'  
He nodded. 'In payment.'  
'Hmm' she nodded seriously .  
'Seems a bit expensive, I mean, how do I know that this cloak is even well made?'  
He shook it out, turning it this way and that. 'This? The finest craftsmanship that money could buy. You see this needlework?' he held it over his arm for her to inspect. '  
Such neat stitches, And this cloth, this wool cannot compare to Crysomallis. His golden fleece was naught but heshin and spun straw. I could lay this at King James feet and he would offer me a castle and a princess in return!'  
She bent over and pressed her lips to his cheek. 'Then I would be a fool to refuse it.' her voice was low and he flushed, darkly. She turned around offering her shoulders for him to place it on. He flicked his eyes over her in the glass as the wool settled around her body. Blue over he plain grey of her bodice, the cheap brown skirt. He would wrap her in silks if her could. He swore that he would buy her the finest gowns, only the most expensive lace and satin would rest against her fine skin. He would pin her shadow black hair up with diamonds, he would clip pearls in her ears and anoint her hands with sapphires, rubies and topaz. She would glitter. The whole world would look and know that she was a precious thing, a beloved creature. She lifted it out and twirled. 'Its lovely, thanks.'  
'Shall we test it out? The vicar has stopped me in the street demanding to know of my absence from his sermons.'  
'A long absence?' she guessed.   
'Yes.' he fetched his coat. 'My mother was a witch, religion has never appealed to me.'  
'My Mam wasn't a big fan, either.' she let him take her arm as they walked through the town. 'Understandably.'  
A light snow was falling and the cobbles were slick with frost. The townspeople were making their way down the road, out towards the wood where the the old church stood next to a small pastoral house. It was a stark, anglican place, the walls were bare of decoration, though the oak benches were rich with carvings of leaves and acorns. He saw her run a hand over these as they shuffled into a pew, as far form the pulpit as they could be.   
'I can't believe I am in a church with you.' she whispered.   
He nudged her with his arm, shooting a glance around at their church-mates. There was a few pointed stares from the pious crowd. The vicar arrived in his cassock and began to preach. His droning voice was soporific, Temperance's head dropped towards the floor more than once. He folded his arms over his chest, letting his mind wander. The service was a good cover, they could go to the woods and she could show him where she had arrived, once the crowd began to trickle back to town.   
It seemed to last an age, but finally the vicar shut his bible and opened the doors. He stopped them with a strong arm. 'Mr. MacLeod, we have not seen you in quite some time!' he beamed 'And this is your niece by marriage? I was touched by the psalms you sang with the children, madame.'  
She held out a hand, which bemused him, and wrung his. 'Temperance.'  
'Ah! Named for a virtue.' he said, wincing slightly, and rubbing his palm from the force of her greeting. 'Well we hope to see you next Sunday.'  
She flashed him a false smile and hurried away. Fergus looked carefully over his shoulder before pulling her into the trees, she led him north and then stopped suddenly. 'It was here, I think.'  
'You think?” he touched the ancient yew tree, it was a feature of the woods that he knew well. He crouched down to examine the ground around the roots and caught a glint of something under the leaves and hummus. He brushed this aside and found a rounded metal object. He picked it up, unearthing a strange silver knife. He held it out to her and she gasped.  
'Thank fuck.' she tucked it under her skirts, he looked away hurriedly. 'Thats my favourite one.'  
He straightened up 'Theres no feel of magic here, nothing more than usual.' He frowned and glanced at the sky 'The moon is waning.'  
She followed his eyes 'It's daytime.'  
'Yes, but never the less. I believe I have an idea of how to proceed. Come, let us return home before the snow falls.'  
That evening the cold had returned in earnest and they stayed close to the fire. He had laboured over a spell for some time in silence, until she interrupted him with a mug of ale.  
'My thanks.' he brought it to his lips, quirking a brow as she did the same.  
'I don't think I will acquire a taste for this.'  
'Too rough for you?' he said with a sneer 'No doubt you prefer fine Italian wines?'  
She laughed, a small smile playing over her lips, the wet light of the fire licking out a gleam in her eyes. 'No, can't say they were ever my thing.'  
'Well, ladies shouldn't be taking to drink.' he sniffed.  
'I'm not a lady.' she picked up the mug and tipped the drink down her throat, swallowing noisily. He followed suit, pointedly wiping his mouth on his sleeve and filling the mugs without care.  
'So, what do we do, thee and me?' he had been wondering about it, about the nature of their friendship.   
'Listen to music, go to the theatre, look at boring art that you pretend to like.' she ticked off 'Mostly we just talk, sometimes you bring me to dinner and sometimes we go dancing.'  
'I am rich, as you have hinted, my tastes must be quite fine indeed.' he watched a drop of ale slip from the mug and roll down to settle on the table. She blotted it with a finger, lifted that finger to her mouth.  
'I see what you meant about the legs.' she chuckled, after a silence.  
'What?' he glanced down, flexing his muscle.  
'They are fine calves she said, laughing into her drink. 'You always said they were your best feature. A tall, dashingly handsome man with fine calves.'  
He snorted, draining his mug and lifting the pitcher to re-fill it. The stone was cold, possibly that is why he felt such a sudden chill. 'I am an old man, gone to seed, when we meet then, little Witch?'  
'No.' her face was suddenly sad. She chewed her lip, thoughtfully before drinking again, knocking the mug back and reaching for the jar. She poured her mug full again, lifted it to her mouth. 'Gus, I want you to know something.'  
'Yes?' he waited, nervously.   
She gave him a small smile 'My favourite drink is Tequila.'  
'Tec? What? What nonsense. Is the ale not good enough for you!'  
'It's stouty, I like it, but in the future you will need to know that. Its how we meet.' She laughed suddenly 'I always wondered how you knew. Shit, might as well tell you that I was born in Puglia too.'  
He gazed at her as she contemplated her beer, the flickering light cast by the fire made her look younger than he knew her to be. The gold chain on her neck glimmered against her pale skin. 'How is it I meet you, an Irish woman, in Paris?'  
She looked into his eyes, and touched the back of his hand 'I don't know, I don't know why you ever wanted me as a friend but I am so fucking glad that you did.' The sudden earnest outpouring made his ears heat up and he pulled away from her, gruffly.  
'Away woman, tis you who who hunt me down, for my calves no doubt.' She answered this with a laugh and drained her mug a second time. He almost choked at that.   
'Will you drink me out of hearth and home?'  
'Under the table, at least.' her tongue pocked out at him.  
'A challenge?' he poured her another mug full and the night got away from him.

In the morning, the dark and dreary morning, she woke and cautiously tiptoed over to look at him. He was asleep, sitting carefully, with the unearthly grace of the killer that she was, she looked at him, properly. He was wrinkled around the eyes, a few lines about his mouth. There was a sag to the skin on his jowl. He looked his age, each year hard won and begrudged. His hair was starting to thin at the temples, wiry grey strands already spreading there. She touched his shoulder, his cheek, and frowned. He would be Crowley, but he wasn't now, he was human, gentle and breakable underneath it all.  
Crowley, she thought, out in the frigid morning air. She loved him, she knew that, she had known that for years, but it was becoming something else. Something she was less certain of.   
Love is blind, she mused, apparently. She wasn't blind to Crowley's many, many, faults. He was the King of Hell and you didn't get there without a lot of murder and torture and god knows how many scams. She reached the town gate and slipped out with the pre-dawn darkness, the problem was she didn't care that he had done all those things. She didn't care because he had loved her, because he was her friend and now she knew that he had been less than truthful about the nature of their friendship. Fergus, the human, fancied her and what was worse, she fancied him. Him, not Crowley, or maybe because he would be Crowley. She didn't know, it was fucked.   
If she let on, if she let him know that his feelings were reciprocated in the slightest then that meant her whole relationship with Crowley was a lie. The only sacred thing she had was that friendship, that relationship, if it wasn't the truth she didn't know how she would go on. Of course, there was always the problem that she had let on, that Crowley had had to lie. She groaned, leaning her head against a frosted tree trunk, this hurt to think about, it was messed up, it was all chaos and she was sick of chaos.   
At the uneven crossroads she stopped, her hackles rising, she could feel magic crackling in the air. A rustling to her left, she squared her shoulders, zen and ready, freeing the knife from her cumbersome skirts.  
A dark figure tumbled out of the undergrowth, his hat askew, panting.  
'Vicar?' she didn't drop her guard.  
He looked around wildly and cleared his throat. 'Ms MacLeod! Good-eve, eh, morning, I, well, I lost my way in the woods. What are you doing out alone this time of day?.' he plucked twigs from his cape and straightened his hat, not meeting her questioning stare.  
His eyes flickered over the clearing, jaw set. She took this in, calmly, and looked him up and down. 'You're a Hunter.' not a question, it was written all over him.  
He flushed, his mouth working to deny it.  
'Don't lie, its fine, I am too in a manner of speaking. My father was.' she cut off whatever he had been about to say and waited, patiently.   
His face fell and he sighed heavily. 'I am found out.' he pulled a book from under his jacket, and opened it where a stub of pen had marked the page, a crude, familiar, figure drawn there. 'I was wounded in an altercation with this.'  
She glanced at the page, made a face, 'A Tunda. Never met one, but I know about them. You were lucky to escape, and you need to clean that before it festers.'  
'A Tunda?'  
'Shapeshifter, lures you in by looking like your mother, or some kind old woman. Then it traps you in its woods, feeds off your life source. I can't believe your a Hunter!'  
'It runs in the family' he said, primly, looking around 'I have never known a woman to the calling.'  
'You'd be surprised, come on, let me help you.' the pastoral house was near by and he was shaking with excess adrenaline. He sat gingerly at his table while she heated water and bent to examine his ragged cut.  
'So, you were not a widow?' he asked at length, bright green eyes scanning her face. There was something warm, but hard and steely, about them that reminded her of Dean. She wondered how worried he was, if he was worried.  
'No.' she smiled 'Not exactly, I had been engaged and he did die.'  
'He was no relation of Mr. MacLeod's?'  
'No. The lie was easier than the truth.' she was aware she was still not being truthful. She bandaged his arm, wondering. 'Well, I'll be off home.'  
'Let me escort you.' he offered, rising.  
'I'll be fine, you rest Vicar.'  
'StJohn.' he said.  
She looked a question at him. He was putting back on his hat, leading her out of the house.  
'StJohn Campbell.' he bowed 'At your service.'  
She stuck out a hand and he took it, she felt the strength of that calloused flesh. This second handshake seemed just as amusing to him as the first.  
'Thank you. Temperance.' he said, earnestly.  
They walked in silence, he was full of questions, but he didn't voice them. Morning had risen by the time they reached the shop, where Fergus was working by candlelight.   
He took one look at the blood on her hands and turned on the vicar with a dark, murderous scowl. 'It's alright' she said 'He's a hunter, like me.'  
His anger vanished 'Oh' he touched her jaw, tender and afraid.  
'Mr. MacLeod' the vicar bowed. 'Good day.'  
Fergus snorted, scanning him from head to toe 'You don't look like a fighter.'  
'Hunter.' he straightened his back 'I would not have pegged you for the calling either.'  
'I'm not.' he sneered, folding his arms.   
'Thank you, for bringing her back safely.'  
'Of course.' he bowed and scurried away.  
The giant scotsman rounded on her, breathing heavily. He bent his head, to hide his pain. 'I am grown foolish, I thought the worst when you were gone.'  
'As if I'd feck off without a goodbye'  
That night she barely slept, worry boiling in her gut. It was almost her moon, it was almost time to go.

He worked on the ingredients for the spell, she looked up as he reached for her knife, resting on the table top. His skin split to the blade while she was watching with a morbid fascination. 'Silver knife.' she said, to his questioning glance.  
He shrugged, unconcerned and continued with the spell 'What for?'  
'Demons.' she bound up his arm, her fingers were rough but she worked carefully. 'And its handy for steak.'  
That knife would have hurt Crowley, he would have felt its presence and reached for another. It hit her like a smack to the stomach every-time, that here he was and he was human. He could stay human, she shook her head, that wasn't a fair thought. Just because she wanted to stay and be human didn't mean that he had to.  
He bent over the pestle, mixing herbs into a paste. 'You're a strange woman.'   
'So they say.' she went back to her book, leaving him to mutter over his work, scowling darkly.   
Night had fallen by the time he was finished, he rubbed his eyes and looked around. She had been thinking, in silence, toying with her emerald. She was human here, should she explain that to him, she was human here and she liked being human. She liked needing to eat, she enjoyed feeling tired enough to sleep. The food wasn't great and the accommodation was a little lacking, but that didn't matter. She was exactly what she had always wanted to be, human, mortal, normal.   
'Can I talk to you about something?'  
'Anything.' he pulled his chair round to where she sat by the hearth.   
'I have to go home tomorrow.' she looked resolutely into the ash beneath the fire.  
He didn't speak, the chair groaned as his weight shifted. Going home meant knowing the lie, going home meant the Mark coming back. It meant endless Hunting and dodging death and it was exhausting, so fucking exhausting.   
'I can protect you.' he said, after an age.   
'I have not got much, but its yours.'  
She looked up then, saw the naked hunger in his eyes, in the broken set of his mouth. 'Do you love me?'  
'Yes.' he spat the word out.   
'I do. I understand if you love him, not me, but I love you.'  
'What if I'm worried that I love you, not him?'  
'Is that a reason to worry?'  
'You have to live knowing that, I guess, thats a worry. I'd worry that I would hurt you.'  
He slid out of his seat on to the floor beside her and took her hands in his. 'Maybe this is not the past, maybe you coming here did not happen, perhaps this has all been re-written.'  
'I'd really like to think that was the truth.' she felt tears sting her eyes, but didn't give into them.   
'However, I don't think that it is.'  
He brought her hands to his lips, his beard was scratchy, and kissed them tenderly. When he next spoke she could feel his breath against her knuckles. 'I've never loved anyone before this.'  
'I know.' she chewed her lip, debating a point that was shouting inside her head.   
'Temperance' his arms shook, she felt the jostle of it in her hands.   
'You told me that I change, that I, well, you imply that we have known each other for many years, yet surely by the time you are born I am, if not dead, at deaths door.'  
She was silent, stroking his thumb, eyes closed, waiting. 'Temperance, what is the year of your birth?'  
She sighed, a long loud sound. Her heart skipped in her chest, a death knoll, she started this, so she had to tell him. 'I don't want to lie.' she explained 'But I really don't want to tell you the truth either.'  
'Darling' her heart skipped in her chest and he put a hand out, touching her cheek 'Darling you can tell me anything.'  
'1985.'   
He sucked in a sharp breath, then exhaled slowly. His eyes darting over her face. 'How is it that I am still living in the year 1985?'  
'I'm horrified by the thought that I influenced your choice.' she shivered, all that pain, all that death laid at her feet. She was drowning in shame and despair already and she couldn't bare to do this to him. To Crowley, fuck, I love Crowley.   
She did cry then, she was an ugly crier. Her eyes went puffy and her face went splotchy and her nose ran. She cried, leaning forward to collapse into his bewildered arms. She kissed him, hard on the mouth. She had to, she had to kiss him, so she did. Her last night with him, his last night with her.  
He didn't know how to kiss her, so she pushed him back and took off his shirt. She lavished his chest with her tongue, kissing over his throat.  
'My love!' he gasped out, writhing as she straddled him, pressing down against his already aching body. She stilled, just for a moment, glancing down.  
'Sell your soul for that thing?'  
A devilish grin, he picked her up and rolled her beneath him 'I'll be gentle' he whispered, in-between kisses, hands fumbling to free themselves of their clothes. 'I'll try to be gentle.'  
'No.' she bit down, hard on his lip, hard enough to draw blood. 'I don't want you to be.'

A storm raged until dawn.  
He woke in the darkness, she was lying across his chest, breathing deeply. A bone deep contentment washed over him and he stroked her hair, unable to put into words what he was feeling. She would leave, he loved her and she must leave.  
They stood in the woods, at a crossroad, waiting for the moonrise. She looked lost, alone, still and trembling in the circle. He opened his mouth to begin the rite. 'Gus' she interrupted.   
His eyes found hers, he looked a question.  
'I don't want to go' she didn't plan to say it, it didn't mean less for not being planned.   
A rattling breath echoed around them, something like fog seemed to roll in between the trees. Fergus backed away, shoving her behind his massive body.   
'Somethings wrong.'  
A sound like a laugh seemed to shiver in the air and, suddenly, the fog boiled away, leaving a ghostly blue apparition before them and, much to Temperance's shock, a woman. Her hair was pale, almost white, it fell down her back almost to her ankles.  
'Tunda' Temperance shifted, planting her feet more firmly on the ground while the creature shimmered before them.  
'So the vicar did not kill it?”  
'Looks like.'  
The spirit danced around them, its ghostly claws clearing a path in the leaves. It fluttered, cold and horrible, long hands reaching for their souls and finding only one for the taking.   
'Don't you dare.' Temperance dropped into a crouch, a gleam in her eyes that would set men running.   
'I can't make you see what I want you to see.' her voice a rattle of wind over dead leaves 'You are Hunting kind, not good for food.' the creatures long claws reached for them, flashing like blades in the moonlight.  
Temperance launched herself forward, reaching inside herself for power, realising too late exactly what had been missing since she arrived in this place. She was mortal, more human than she had ever been, she didn't have power. Horror constricted her throat, she was weak. Those claws raked across her stomach, but it was only pain, pain was nothing, she kicked out, catching it under the chin.  
She was human, her dad had taught her to fight as a human, fuck, if Dean and Sam could do it, so could she.  
Fergus was thrown aside where he fell with a grunt on the tangled tree roots, opening a gash on his forehead that bled bright and crimson. Temperance ducked those claws, caught the monsters long hair and tugged it off balance. It shrieked like a banshee.  
The sound froze her blood within her veins, it pinched her heart, it sounded like terror, pure, awful terror. The knife was ready in her fist, she slammed it home into the creatures eye and jumped back, not quick enough, another slash of those too long claws ripping through her.  
It fell to its knees, flailing, while Temperance tottered back. Fergus, on his feet now, strode over, pulled the knife free and stabbed down again with a snarl worthy of the Demon he would become, he turned, his face paling.  
'Temperance!'  
She found herself on the ground, the moonlight bright above her. It was cold on her skin. She tried to recall the last time she had died, had it felt like this, had it hurt.   
She laughed, that hurt, but she did it anyway. Human and dying, everything she had ever wanted.   
Fergus had taken her head in his hands and kissed her desperately. 'Never! I wont allow it! No' he held her to his chest.   
'I swore not to protect you. You can't die!.'  
She slumped in the dark, against the bright buds of early spring. Her blood made a river of the chalk road, she sighed, looking to the sky. 'It's alright' she tried to say 'I'm ready.' It was all she had ever wanted, really, to die.  
'Think not, darling' that voice she had missed spoke out. He was there, she opened her eyes. He stood beside himself, each version eyeing the other. The shorter, well dressed Demon and the massive, angry human. He, the Demon, bent down and picked her up, as if she weighed nothing at all.  
'No' she shook her head, hands to weak to stop him. 'No.'  
'Its alright, we can fix you up in a jiffy.' Crowley said, holding her closer.  
'You, Demon.' the man called out, a hard bright look in his eyes 'How do I do it?”  
'Don't!' she begged, the human, tears falling in earnest down her face. 'I love you.'  
He bent his head to her and kissed her lips, a soft kiss. 'I will find you again.'   
That was how she left him, there at the crossroads, bloody and ten years from death.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Ask me what I did, go on, ask.'  
> An angry intake of breath as she contended once more with the pain of the Mark as it begged for blood. 'What did you sell your soul for?'  
> 'You.'......
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

The portal contracted around them and draining, the life ebbing, weakness was gone. She was thrilled by a burst of energy, a lance of power through her mind and then, of course, it was lost to the Mark. Raw and unreasonable, the Mark reappeared and burnt itself into her skin, insinuating its ancient and powerful curse back into her being.  
She clawed her way out of Crowley's arms and held herself up with the back of a particularly hideous chair. The room was unfamiliar, finely decorated in a bland, expensive way. She glanced out of the massive floor to ceiling windows to her right, Hong Kong. In the smog, neon lights glowed, giving shape to the dark glittering structures of metal and glass below. She had never been to Hong Kong.  
Crowley was still behind her, she could see him in the glass. 'What the fuck' was all she found she could say.  
He smirked and crossed the white carpeted floor. 'Darling.' he began, but he did not have the chance to finish, she rounded on him and slapped him hard across the face. He tottered back, blinking in shock. 'Temperance?'  
'Don't, don't you fucking dare darling me!' she spat, raising a finger and advancing on him 'You lied and you lied and you lied! All of it,18 fucking years of it!' She was beginning to cry, she couldn't contain it. She dashed tears angrily from her face 'How could you, how could you.' she didn't have the words. She didn't have the vocabulary. She switched to Portuguese, that felt like the right language to roar in.  
'You fucking bastard!'  
For his part he seemed lost, just for moment. Then he rallied, he went to the drinks cabinet and pulled the stopper on a graceful decanter of whiskey, he took his time pouring a glass and tasting it before he turned around to her.   
'Ask me what I did, go on, ask.'  
An angry intake of breath as she contented once more with the pain of the Mark as it begged for blood. 'What did you sell your soul for?'  
'You.'  
A hysterical cry burst out of her lips and she smacked a hand to her mouth, shaking her head. How damned could she get before it killed her. How much destruction and pain could sit on her shoulders before she broke beneath it.   
'I sold my soul for you.' he pressed on, harshly.   
'I got all the memories clear as day, I still have them, I got to keep it all and it never fades. I got to agonise over each detail and piece it all together. How do you think I bought stocks in bloody Apple woman?'  
'You must have realised how much I didn't want this. You must have known.' she was despondent now, that sudden anger fading.  
'I thought things weren't playing right, thought things must have changed. You didn't have the Mark when you met me, back there.' he gestured with his whiskey glass.   
'When you died, when you killed yourself and turned Demon, I thought 'she would have told me this'. But you didn't, so it must be a whole new timeline. I thought it would be that you'd never find out about, well, us.'  
She looked at him, standing on the deep piled white carpet his neat hand's around the drink, a shrug in his posture. He looked like nothing could touch him, he looked like the Crowley she had always known, not like Fergus at all. He was sure, confident, easy in his being.  
'You must hate me.' she said, turning away to look at the city.   
'You must fucking abhor me.'  
'No, never!'  
'Don't lie.' she knew him too well, she knew how he carried a grudge.  
'Maybe for a week or two in 1810.' he admitted, his voice low as he padded over to her. 'Maybe a little in the 1970's, but never for long, never truly. I could never hate you, I love you. I adore you.'  
Tentatively she leaned back into his chest and his arms rushed around her, two bands of steel, holding her close. She felt him sigh, the whisper of his breath on her neck.  
'When I found you again, in that bar as if you had been waiting for me, I almost didn't believe it.'  
'I was alone, I wasn't waiting around for you.' she pointed out, but he ignored the jibe to continue with his romanticised version of events. She remembered the day they had met, met again for him.   
She had been playing a gig in Paris, the bartender hadn't believed she was legal and ignored her beer requests all evening. The lads had packed up the van, leaving her chatting to a girl from Ostia, she had had a thick Roman accent and painted on white jeans. As she had turned to leave the barman had turned suddenly and put a shot of tequila down for her, he didn't speak, his eyes glazed and out of focus.   
She recalled the little pulse of Demonic activity, briefly considered her mother being around and knocked it back. It was cheap, yellow, and bitter. It was the best thing she had ever tasted, tequila always, even now, it tasted like freedom. It tasted like the memory of buying the van had felt, it made her thing, that was not exactly a soul, sing.   
She drank her drink, turned and saw him staring at her, a Demon, she didn't know him and gave him a small nod of thanks before diving through the crowd, into the van and out to the night.   
That was how she first met Crowley and she had thought it a little strange that the Demon hadn't tried to speak to her, or kill her as they usually did, but she got lost in the joy of music and cheap wine and it didn't seem to matter much after a while.  
'I couldn't believe how young you were, just waiting to be corrupted by me.' he purred. She elbowed him in the gut, but not too hard.  
'You're such a dick.'  
'You love it.' he countered, pressing his face into her neck and breathing deeply.  
'I need space.' she said.   
'I need time.'  
'Temperance.' he took a step back and she turned to look at him, his jaw clenched 'I love you.'  
'Don't make me quote star wars, Crowley.' it broke her heart to see that pain hit him, it was as if she had slapped him again. He blinked back from it. She saw him almost mouth the name in shock.   
'You lied to me and it hurts.' she tried to explain.  
'You were hardly truthful!' he roared, throwing his glass against the wall. 'You never told me what you were! You never told me anything!'  
'I was human then, I was a real honest to goodness human. I had life, I could have had death.' she shook her head, bitterly.   
'I didn't want to put ideas in your head, I wanted you to stay. I wanted us to be normal.'  
'Normal, thee and me?' he sneered, brushing down his suit.   
'You didn't love me then, you fucked me and made me feel all special, but you didn't love me the way that I loved you.'  
'No, I didn't love Fergus, because I already loved you. To love him would have been a betrayal, but he was you, you were him! Its so fucked up!' she hated to say it, she didn't want to say it. Love shouldn't feel so awful, so hopeless, not that she was an expert.   
'You were this human, this man, full of possibilities and I knew I could love you then, but I didn't yet. I wanted you, because you were familiar and you were going to be the man I loved. How fucked is that?'  
He was very still, very still. He was looking at her, his eyes were on her but she didn't know what he was thinking, or if he was thinking. They had never been so off kilter, never been so out of tune with each other.  
She went to the decanter, poured a large measure of whiskey and drank it down, catching sight of her reflection in the window she tore off her cap and untied her skirts. She had had her jeans on underneath for warmth, with her legs free she kicked the bundle of clothes aside and tried not to cry. The Mark was so loud inside her head, blood, violence, she wanted to hurt something, anything, everything!  
He was silent.  
She watched him, watching her reflection now. 'Crowley?'  
He flinched, again. 'So, what now?'  
'I am very angry, I reckon you are too?'  
'Yes.' a hiss.  
'I think we need time apart, I know that I do.'  
'No! No you can't leave me!' A vein throbbing in his temple as he spun and caught her with inhuman speed. 'You can't leave again.'  
'Stop.' she tired to struggled free.  
He took her face and kissed her resisting mouth. 'It will be just like it was!'   
'No, it fucking wont!' she turned her face away, grappled with him to release her. His grip was becoming painful, something manic glinting in his eyes that made all the ager drain out of her.  
'Why did you lie?” she asked, and her voice broke on the horrible word. Lie, he had lied to her. He did let her go then, his face drained of colour. He sank to the ground, burying his face in her stomach.'  
'I didn't want to.'  
'I'm going home.' she broke his grip around her legs and stepped back, slipping the pendant off her neck and dropping it to the floor. There was a shudder, and the door crashed open.

Dean and Sam appeared, guns drawn with Castiel behind them, waving from the wrist like a child.   
'What the hell is going on!' Dean roared, lowering his weapon. 'Where the hell did you go?'  
'And the fuck are you wearing?' Sam put in, eyeing her bodice.  
She wanted to fall into her friends arms, but she couldn't, she was unclean, unfit to be around them. She was damned and violent and broken.   
'I can't be here, I can't, I'll fucking kill someone and that someone might be fucking me.'  
Sam's mouth dropped open and he took a hesitant step towards her.   
'Ok, look, lets get you home.'  
'Did he hurt you?' Dean asked, scowling at the Demon.   
'You'll forgive me, you always do.' Crowley's voice was brittle.  
'Will you forgive me?'  
'I did, years ago.'  
She had grown still, one hand pressed to her mouth as if to hold back her rising nausea. She took a shallow, shuddering breath and tears welled ponderously down her cheeks. She shook her head, not speaking.   
Without a word she turned and stumbled, blindly to the door and staggered through to the bright American air. Her legs gave way beneath her, leaving her kneeling at the Bunker walls.  
On her knees in the dirt she prayed, she had never prayed before, ever. She knew how, she knew people did it, but she was the child of an angel and a demon and her father was the first son of man. What need had she to pray, what hope had an abomination of being heard. In that moment, still reeling, she joined her hands.  
She prayed for forgiveness, she prayed for John and for her Dad. She prayed for the brothers, she prayed in thanks, she prayed for understanding and eventually she prayed for herself.  
'Enough' Castiel spoke softly, his voice raw.  
'Please, Temperance.'  
She went inside, bowed her head, waiting.   
'They will not answer you. They can hear, I can hear, please, please enough.' He sat down on her bed. 'Your prayers hurt to hear, and they are dangerous for you. Your father might hear.' he explained, laying a hand on her shoulder, she felt him wince slightly.   
She threw her head back, letting out a breath 'So there is no one for me to pray to.' She managed a weak chuckle. 'Well, typical.' she stood, her body protesting.   
Sam and Dean were waiting, eyeing her with some concern.  
'How long was I gone?'  
'A day.' San opened the front door.  
'What? A day!' she laughed. 'A fucking day?'  
'Longer for you?' Dean guessed, his nose wrinkling 'You stink!  
'I know.'  
She went to the bathroom and washed, she put on her eyeliner in the mirror. Thick and black, then dressed in her dark jeans, boots and black shirt. She didn't know what to tell them, she didn't know what to say.   
It was December in America, it was getting close to midwinter.  
She plucked her jacket from the peg on her door, shrugged it on. Her worn wallet went into her jeans pocket, her knife into its sheath, lighter over her heart, everything else she left, for now.  
'Tem?' Dean was at the door, his face unreadable.   
'Hi.'  
'What happened?'  
'I fucked up. I fucked everything up. The spell worked, it got rid of the Mark but it sent me back in time. To his past.'  
'Crowley's? Shit, thats, uh, pretty messed up. Was he human?'  
'Yeah, and he sold his soul because of me.'  
A silence greeted that, she watched a little battle of emotions play over his face, shock, disgust, pity. 'Wow.'  
'How many people has he killed, or hurt, or just fucked over? All of that is on me.'  
'No! No, Tem, it aint. It was still his decision. He decided to sell his soul and he decided to do all the shit that he's done. Its not your fault!' he took her shoulders, working his thumbs into her skin. 'You are not responsible for all this shit!'  
'I think that I am.'  
'Yeah, cause your a martyr at heart.' he snorted, rolling his eyes. He dropped her arms and looked at her. 'Its not your fault, you know it aint, you just feel guilty right now.'  
She shrugged, they had walked to the garage, he hadn't questioned it. 'How annoyed would you be if I missed Christmas?'  
'Very.' he said, with mock severity, flicking on the lights.   
'Just give me a few days.'   
'Don't be gone too long, ok?' his voice severe.  
'I love you, both of you, you're amazing. Please don't take this personally, I just need to be alone.' and she drove away, reversing onto the weedy lane and taking the turn quickly. The engine rumbled as she floored it over the verge and disappeared from sight. 

There was a bar in New York, she thought, as she drove into Nashville, that has big doughy pretzels and good music. Its the type of bar she had not been to in a while, it was a bit hip and it served craft beer, but its where she want to be right then.   
It was there, on Christmas Eve, that the brothers found her, they walked passed her table once and she thought about keeping the ward up so they would keep going. She didn't, she rubbed the lines of the stamp on her wrist and waved when they turned at the bar.  
Dean scowled as he rounded the small table. 'Castiel's been worried sick about you.'  
She offered him a pretzel.   
'Ah, I forgot about the whole Archangel on the rampage thing.'  
Forgot? Jesus Christ Tem!' Sam snatched away her beer.  
'I was dying when he, when Crowley came to get me.' she explained, sighing.  
Dean looked up from the pretzel, raising an eyebrow. 'Crowley?'   
She shrugged. She had only ever called him Crowley ironically, he was always Gus to her, but not now. Maybe not ever. Gus had been a massive ginger tailor, not the King of Hell.  
'I wanted to die, I was human, I could have died normally. I was horrified when he showed up. Horrified that it was all fucking pre-determined.'  
Dean shook his head, his lips pulling into a thin line. Sam who was frowning out at the city said. 'He was in a really bad way, when you vanished in the woods. He was almost hyperventilating, he lost all his calm.'  
'Yeah.' Dean agreed.   
'Never seen him like that. He didn't say much but he tried a couple of things to get you back before sending us home. Castiel couldn't sense you, he was trying all the time.'  
'I'm sorry that I left without really, you know, talking about it. I didn't mean to frighten you again, its just so fucking surreal, I don't know how to deal with it. He's my best friend and he lied to me and then I went back and I fucking lied to him. Do you know what its like to realise you're that awful person that other people sneer at? I'm not saying I'm the villain in a story but, fuck me, I'm not good.'  
'Tem! Crowley manipulated you, he lied to you, you have every right to be angry. This is not your fault, ok, you are a good person and you're trying to come to terms with all this, thats what good people do.' Sam urged in his usual voice of reason.  
They were frowning thoughtfully at each other, a waiter wearing a red hat set down their beers which sat un-touched for a few minutes.   
Dean broke the silence. 'You've been changing, before the spell I noticed that. You've gotten less, um.'  
'Caustic.' Sam supplied 'You spend more time like, dealing with things, not just being angry. It's a good thing.'  
Dean shrugged at that. 'Emotional bullshit.'  
'Emotional maturity, maybe!' Sam said in disbelief at his brother.  
'Emotional bullshit.' Temperance agreed. 'I decided on something, not Crowley or any of that, I'm not there yet. The Mark. I can live with it.'  
'What? Really?' Sam gasped. 'You said it was tearing you apart.'  
'It was, it is, but I understand it now. I understand how my dad did it. Theres a trick to it. A way of looking at it.' she finished her drink in a long swallow.   
'It's a part of me, but its just one part of many, its a craving I can never satisfy. Like being an addict I guess, I don't know. I accept it and I'm moving on with it.'  
Dean smiled, a slow, crooked smile 'Ready to come home?” he asked.  
'Yeah.'  
'Good, cause it turns out we are in a lot of trouble.'  
'What happened?' she stood and followed them out.  
'Well.' Sam began. 'Lucifer was set free by Michael and Castiel reckons that they're working together.'  
She exhaled heavily and walked them to the train. 'You know this morning I woke up thinking, I feel ok, for once, comfortable in my own skin. Still, you know, depressive as fuck.'  
Dean chuckled. 'Well, you only had a couple of days of soul searching you probably need a year for that.'   
'What I was getting at was. I feel ok, any other day you dropped that bomb on me and I would have wanted to cry. Today, I could go for a chat with my father, I could smack the Devil around, no bother.'  
Sam laughed loudly, drawing stares on the street. He was still chuckling when she led them down an alley, took their arms and transported them to Nashville, where she had left her car.   
'It just seems to get more ridiculous each day.' Sam explained.   
'We know that God exists, we know the Devil exists and we know that everything we thought before is wrong. How many apocalypses do we need before everybody in Heaven and Hell gets the message and leaves it alone? I mean, we live in an underground magic war room, our best friend is an Angel and out sister bares the mark of Cain, imagine explaining that to us 10 years ago.'  
Dean grunted in agreement.  
'Sister?' she asked, turning onto the road out of the city.   
'Always wanted one.' Sam admitted. 'And it is how I think of you, you're more than a friend to me, to us.'  
'Thank you.' She was genuinely touched by that.   
'Honestly, thank you.'  
Dean squeezed her hand, pressing his fingers into her skin as if to impart the depth of his feeling, but he didn't say anything.  
She smiled, a weak sunlight fell down on the car as the clouds parted. 'Temperance Winchester. Huh, doesn't sound great, I might stick with my own, believe me when I say that I love you both so much.'  
Sam patted her shoulder. 'Hey! What the hell is your last name?” he asked suddenly, frowning.   
'How come we don't know it?'  
'You never asked.' she pointed out as she pulled into the fast lane, the car grumbling happily. 'Don't laugh, it's Adams.'  
'Temperance Adams?' Dean did laugh 'Did your dad think that up?”  
'He was Adamson for a while, but he really liked the TV show. The Adams Family, said it was a great parenting guide.'  
Smirking, Dean turned on the radio, tuned in a rock station. 'No complaints, shotgun gets to choose the music.'  
'In your car shotgun gets to choose the coffee.' Sam pointed out, putting his head phones in and closing his eyes. Temperance actually liked the song that came on. Not that she would give him the satisfaction. 'Living easy, living free, season ticket on a one way ride..'  
She chuckled, low. 'Fitting.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any comments, kudos or queries are much appreciated!


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They had been probing each other, looking for weaknesses. She was in no doubt that he knew what hers were, he just hadn't attacked yet, he was thinking. He was playing with her.  
> She sucked in her lip, slightly, but didn't say anything, not willing to part with words in case they meant too much. In Hell, with the Devil, she thought they might mean quite a lot....
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

The Bunker, home, was cold. They arrived on St Stephen's Day with enough store bought pies and treats to last a millennia. Castiel was waiting, he looked at Temperance, opened his arms and said. 'Embrace me.'  
'No?'  
'Embrace me.' he moved forward and hugged her, awkwardly. She endured it a moment, patted him on the back and wrenched free.   
Dean wasn't entirely sure what was happening with the Angel, he was still an Angel, but it was as if humanity had been creeping in on him, since he was last injured.   
'Crowley is imprisoned.' Castiel said, without preamble. 'Lucifer, the deceiver, has once more taken control of Hell.'  
Dean put the chocolate tart he was carrying down on the table and sighed, sadly, patting the box. 'This has been the worst Christmas ever.' He looked over at Temperance, her face was a mask.  
'I'll go get him.' she said.  
'What? Surely this is a group action. We spring the gang member from the feds using a clever rouse.' Castiel looked at Dean for confirmation and Dean couldn't help but to smile at the Angels enthusiasm.  
'Have you been watching action films again?' he asked, remembering the weeks of heist references after Oceans Eleven.  
'Cas, you can't go down there, they'd smell you a mile off. I can, Demon blood and all that, it will be fine.' Temperance patted Castiel's hand as he pouted.  
'You say that a lot right before things go wrong.' he observed.   
'You're not wrong.' she agreed.   
'Ok, I give up on plan thinking of. Dean? Got anything?'  
He smirked 'I do, as a matter of fact.' he pulled a beer from the fridge, tossing one to her. 'You're gonna hate it.'  
'Only because I relish being difficult.' she opened the bottle on the table top.  
'You're gonna waltz in, stab the Devil and get out.'  
'Just brazen it out, huh? she drank the beer, looking around. 'Thats a terrible plan and I love it. You son of a bitch, I'm in.'  
'Remember we talked about emotion growth? Yeah, I'm taking that back.' Sam sighed, shaking his head.   
'What happened, exactly?' Dean asked Castiel.  
'Micheal freed Lucifer from his cage, he told the ranks of Heaven he did it to defeat him once and for all and to end evils reign, but the faction that I follow discovered that he made a deal with Lucifer. They intend to bring about the Apocalypse and destroy the Earth.'  
'Typical.' Temperance put in, cutting up the chocolate tart with a generous hand.   
'How will they start the Apocalypse this time?'  
'The shall kidnap you, remove the Mark and release the Darkness.' Castiel didn't even sound phased, he nodded happily, as if to congratulate himself for speaking well.  
Dean drooped his fork, the chocolate filling splattered on the plate.   
'I'm rethinking my Crowley rescue mission plan.'   
'The Darkness.' Temperance said, touching the Mark. 'Not the cheesy rock band, I'm assuming?'  
'An ancient evil, an evil as old at the universe itself.' Castiel explained.   
'The Mark is a lock to its cage, or perhaps the key to it. There is nothing known for certain about it, only that it will consume all living things, if freed. We knew it as Amara.'  
'Oh, great, ok. I don't even want to fucking know right now. Lets focus on freeing Crowley.' she put her head in her hands. 'One catastrophe at a time.'

Dean watched her movements, her hands sifted through her hair then crawled down her neck. She clasped them together and fidgeted. She did that when she was uncomfortable, he knew that. He didn't want to put her in danger, if Lucifer was going try and take her or torture her, he would prefer Crowley to stay put as a prisoner. She wouldn't allow that, of course, so he didn't try and change her mind.   
'We need a better plan.' he decided.   
He had a head for strategy, his brother might know half a million dead language translations for protective spells and wardings, but Dean could lead an army.   
The main problem with Lucifer was that he was such an unknown, he was powerful and ancient and they had no idea what he wanted. When Sam had tried to open the Cage, under the influence of Demon blood, there had been a whole lot of mad shit going on, you had to break magic seals, do rituals, all that kind of world ending crap.  
'What do we know about the Devil?'  
'He's the Devil.' Castiel folded his arms.  
'My dad always said that he wasn't so much evil as, well, chaos incarnate. He was against god in every way but if god took up the mantle of evil than Lucifer would act the boy-scout. He's mercurial in that way and, well, you know already, he hates humans. Hates them.'  
'Most Demons used to be human, so he doesn't like them either.' Sam put it, already tapping away on his laptop, flicking through his database.   
Dean drummed his fingers on the table. 'Could the First Blade hurt him?'  
Temperance coughed, squirming. 'Good luck getting it back.'  
'Shit.' he shook his head. 'Michael aint gonna let us waltz up there anytime soon, huh? Right, well, ok, could it though?'  
Temperance seemed to think this over. 'Not seriously, it might slow him down for a little while, I suppose. What about your magic cowboy gun?'  
Sam raised a brow at his brother, who shrugged 'I told her a while ago.' Dean explained, not at all sheepishly. 'I don't know, we know it can harm Archangels, but it don't kill them. He was an Archangel, still is.'  
'What can kill an Archangel?' Sam put this to Castiel, but Temperance answered.  
'Me.'  
There was a tense silence at this, Castiel eventually nodded and said.  
'She is, still, Nephilim. A child of the Angels. One of the reasons that they are so feared is that they can destroy to works of God much easier than a true Angels can.'  
'Seriously?' Sam asked, his eyes wide and staring. 'So, you could, I mean, you actually could kill Lucifer?'  
'Given the right circumstances.' she rolled her shoulders, uncomfortably.   
'I mean, I'd rather not. I don't know what the Mark would do with that kind of power. If I tap into it, if I use what I've got, shit, I don't know if there is any coming back from that.'  
Dean reached out a hand and covered her clenched fist with his palm. It was cold, slender beneath his own. 'We've got you.'  
'Always.' Sam agreed.  
'Ride or die?' she smirked.   
'Bitches.' Dean finished, raising his beer.   
'I have an idea.' Castiel said, seeming to surprise himself. 'If we could fashion a new Blade, a Second Blade. We could make a Nephilim weapon, one for the Mark Bearer, that would enhance her power without pushing Temperance towards the dark. We could do this, I am sure of it.'  
'Hybrid blood!' Dean said, suddenly, standing up so quickly that he jostled the table, knocking Sam's arm as he typed.   
'Hybrid blood!'  
'What?'  
Deans mind was racing ahead, it was so simple, Cain had tried to tell him and he hadn't listened. It was as if the man inside the monster had been trying to break free, to give his daughter a fighting chance, knowledge, a weapon, something to save herself with.   
He sat back down, hands spread. 'When Cain had me and John, he said John had Demon blood mixed with his own, that he was a Hybrid. Cain said that type of blood was powerful, that with the right spells it could stop Angels and Demons.'  
'Yeah?' Temperance shot a guarded look at Castiel. 'So?'  
'Tem! I've got Hybrid blood! So does Sam! Castiel gave me his blood to raise me outta Hell, years ago and Sam was given Demon blood as a kid. Don't you get it?'  
'No, not getting it.' she shook her head.   
'Dense as a plank me, you have to explain it.'  
'You wanna kill an Archangel, you need the right tool. You need a Nephilim to wield it. You wanna kill a Knight of Hell you need another Knight. Well, you're both, your a Knight and Nephilim and you have the Mark. We don't have the First Blade anymore, we gotta make a second one.'  
'One imbued with Hybrid blood?' she blinked, Dean saw the possibilities racing through her mind then, he knew that she understood.   
If she forged her own Blade it would be in tune with her and no-one else, if it was made of material that couldn't be touched by an Angel or a Demon, if it was forged in the mixed blood of the Winchester's and wielded by a Nephilim, then Lucifer and Michael could fall, would fall.  
She could kill them, end the threat of them once and for all and then they could get rid of the Mark, they could go back to normal. She could be free.  
'Tem, we could do it!' Dean urged.  
Castiel took a breath and pulled, seemingly from nowhere, a bright, three-sided blade. An Angel blade. He placed this in Temperance fist.   
She whistled, hefting it in her palm, Dean knew it would be familiar from the last time Castiel had given it to her. 'Got a forge?' she asked.  
'Got a spell.' Sam said, turning his laptop screen to the group. 'Leave this bit to me though.'  
'Fair enough.' she laughed, but her eyes were serious.

They Angelic weapon didn't need much heat to begin to melt, it was ridiculously sharp, but light as air and malleable. With serious input from Dean, Temperance heated the blade and began to hammer it out in the garage, there was an iron slab there, presumably an old alter, but it took to being an anvil without complaint. She knocked off the long rounded handle, keeping the metal hot with a torch, she hammered and pulled the excess material from the blade into a long tang and beat a bolster into shape.   
It wasn't going to be a delicate weapon, it was going to be hers, ugly and dangerous. A long knife with one sharp edge, curved up slightly towards the point. When it came time to cool it, Sam had a spell ready, he had cut his arm and Dean's, and mixed the blood in a trough with oil. He was reciting something in Latin, intent on the nauseous mixture.   
'Confirma hoc telum!' Now!' he said to Temperance.  
She plunged the glowing metal in, hot oil burnt her skin as it sizzled up, but she healed quickly, barely noticing the sting. Dripping and shinning from its oil bath, she pulled out the once elegant weapon, its pristine glow was long gone. On the reforged blade drops of blood had beaded, dark red gems, that shone, briefly, before the magic pulled them beneath the surface to leaving a pattern of dark whorls in their wake.   
They all stared, breathless, the garage stank of hot metal and static popped in the air, like magic. There was a loud silence, a ringing, echoing, prophetic silence.  
'Holy shit.' Dean said, when the sounds of life seemed to return around them. The blade no longer hanging in the tongs, but resting, clean on the anvil, looked dull and ordinary.   
'A new Blade.'  
Dean rummaged in a drawer and found a length of cord, he bound this around the tang as a makeshift hilt.   
'The second part of your curse.' Sam spoke reverently. 'If it worked.'  
'Pick it up.' Castiel spoke, his eyes intent on Temperance.   
'Take it, its yours.'  
She reached out a hand, grasped the handle and looked at it, critically. She opened her mouth the speak, maybe to express disappointment in nothing dramatic happening, but a gust of unseen energy whipped around her.   
The metal glowed, the Mark glowed, she felt it reaching out, felt the weapon and the curse binding together. There was no pull, noting insidious, no desire to harm. It felt righteous, it felt like a knife that would do what she told it.  
'That was awesome!'.' Dean said, feeling drained.   
'Now what?' She asked, admiring it from the hilt to tip.  
'Right, he's got Crowley locked up, best bet is, what, the Dungeon?'  
'From what I understand Lucifer is keeping him close, find the Devil and Crowley will be near by.' Castiel put in, he took the Blade from her hands and examined it, peering so close to the edge he was in danger of cutting his eye.  
'Shit.' Temperance frowned, she rubbed the back of her neck, easing a crick that was building and went to stand by the open door, to cool off.   
'Sneak in, sneak out, i guess?' she said, after a moment when no one else was forthcoming. 'Or, revert to the original 'Stab-n-Grab'.'  
Sam began to argue the need for intel, he was probably right, but she was also very impatient. She gave every appearance of listening and when the brothers went back to the library she stopped Castiel with a touch on his arm.  
'I'm going to go and get Crowley, back soon.' as she slipped the knife up her sleeve and vanished.

There were plenty of ways to get to Hell, roads paved with good intentions, yawning caves in greek islands, gates set in the foundations of the earth. Temperance preferred just going, she had Demon blood, she could just go, feeling her way through time and space and out of the realm of the living. Into a place that wasn't particularly real. She closed her eyes, and went to Hell.  
The table was gone, the Throne looked out on an open audience chamber, flames flickered out the windows, which if she was honest, wasn't as cool looking as she wanted it to be.  
There were dozens of demons filing in and out, looking industrious. They were all wearing suits, but looked a little scuffed around the edges. She glanced down at her jeans, keeping out of sight.   
A quick movement secured a Demon around the neck, and another quick movement killed him. She tugged him into a small chamber and stripped him, pulling on his shirt and jacket, to better blend in. He had a satchel full on contracts, so she slung this over her shoulder.  
'This is ridiculous.' she thought to herself, letting her eyes go black, but keeping her power in precarious check. She tucked the Blade into the back of her waistband and sauntered out, trying to look like she belonged there.   
Her eyes were drawn to him, not Lucifer, she couldn't care less about him, but to Crowley. She could find him in a crowd, no matter what. He was chained up, she had to work hard to suppress the flare of the Mark at that. Chained and wearing a fucking Hawaiian shirt and cargo trousers, polishing the flagstone floor. The absurdity would have driven her overboard, but at that moment he looked up and saw her.  
There was a band of spikes around his throat, each point had pricked his skin and drawn blood. His face was bruised and when their eyes met, his screamed for her to run.   
She shuffled along the queue of Crossroads Demons, each handing over contracts to a pair of Demonic solicitors and receiving a fresh stack of vellum. She looked around, trying to find the best route out, because there wasn't a hope in fucking Hell that she was leaving without him.  
The low level murmuring stopped as one of the figures who had been pacing the room came to a stop in front of Crowley, who quickly dropped his eyes back to the stones.   
'My lord.' he muttered,  
Satan wore the body of a lanky man, sandy gold hair, a strong jaw, she knew when he opened his mouth he would sound American.   
'How's my doggie doing?' the man, the Demon bent over and rubbed Crowley head. Crowley flinched, Temperance's hands on the satchel tightened, she felt a few stitches pop from the pressure.  
'Aw, scared of your master, huh?' Lucifer leaned in sniffing him.  
'Fuck this.' she snarled, she slung down the bag, called up all her power and dived over towards Satan, she got an arm around him, slashed at his throat with her Blade and barrelled over his back, landing in a crouch in front of Crowley, arm raised for a block, knife at the ready.  
'Still got some supporters.' Lucifer rolled his eyes, he put a hand to his throat to stop the blood and raised the other, snapping his fingers.  
She grinned, meeting his menacing, golden eyes and letting hers got back to human. She felt the tingle, the rush of power as he tried to smite her. She wasn't a Demon, she wasn't an Angel, that wouldn't work.  
'Huh' he said. The Demons around him were on high alert, all of them black eyed and waiting for an order.  
'Say are we related?' Lucifer tapped his lip, then waved a hand at the hoard. 'You guys takes five.'  
She cocked her head to the side 'Sort of.'  
They didn't move, maybe to shocked to go when he asked.   
'I said GO!' he roared.  
As one all they all hurried for the exits, leaving a trail of paper in their wake. When the doors banged shut, she rose from her crouch, keeping Crowley behind her.  
'Half Demon, and something else?'  
'Punk.' she supplied, not very helpfully.  
He chuckled, clapping his hands suddenly. 'Oh, I think I like you! I wont kill you too quickly don't worry.'  
'I'll kill you very quickly, if its all the same.' she taunted. She heard Crowley groan behind her.   
'Hanging in there babe?' she asked him, without looking away from the Devil, keeping her voice light.  
'Just about.' he spoke through tightly clenched teeth, she heard the chain shift as he moved slightly.  
'Babe?' Lucifer scoffed, then he stilled. 'Oh, you're the gal in the photos! Spanky here, has got a real nice collection of you, you know. Wanna see? None of them are raunchy, but looking at you I guess that just aint your thing.'  
'I'm a ride' she said, easily, trying to scope out his defences without unpacking her Wings.  
'You're dressed like a knock off Johnny Cooper Clarke, hon, it does not suit you.' he shook his head, to enunciate his distaste.   
'Well, I needed a disguise for the great rescue operation.'  
'What you need is a sun tan and a pop of colour!'  
'I'll take that on board, thanks.' she raised a brow.   
They had been probing each other, looking for weaknesses. She was in no doubt that he knew what hers were, he just hadn't attacked yet, he was thinking. He was playing with her.  
She sucked in her lip, slightly, but didn't say anything, not willing to part with words in case they meant too much. In Hell, with the Devil, she thought they might mean quite a lot.  
'You wanna die here kid?' he was amused, thats why she was still standing, this whole thing amused him.  
She feinted to the left, he caught her arm and she kicked him, the force of it shoved him back into a pillar. She spun around, wrenched off the collar on Crowley's neck and kissed him, then she was pulled back and thrown bodily across the room. She landed with force on the desk and it cracked under her. Rolls of paper cascaded around her at the piles of contracts were scattered.  
'You got style.' Lucifer was walking, unhurriedly towards her.  
She felt a stinging cut open on the back of her head and wet blood dripped down her collar.   
He picked her up by the shoulder and threw her down onto the flagstones. She grappled with him, his strong fingers worked around her wrist and he tore open her sleeve. 'Cain?' confusion written in the sudden slant of his brows.   
She threw a kick up, caught the back of his head with her knee and used the momentum to tumble to her feet.  
'Temperance, actually.' she ripped the knife across his chest and kicked him back once more. The chains on Crowley's wrists broke open with a snap.   
'Darling.' he began,  
'Go!'  
He vanished as Lucifer's hand wrapped around her neck and he picked her up, like a kitten.   
'Cain had a kid? Wow, never saw that coming.'  
With a quick, snap of his wrist she felt her skull crack against the stone floor. That hurt, that made time move wrong.  
She let her Wings open, she let power flood from her heart. She spat blood on the floor, as she healed her skull. 'Michael's my dad.'   
'Ah! Your daddy is really anxious to get you. So much so that he released me from my prison, and he told me all your little secrets.'  
'Didn't know that I had any.' she was panting with the effort of keeping him out of her mind. She could feel his attacks and he tried to control her.  
'Let see, what was it? Oh yeah, you'd die for your friends; who are two human Hunters that I have a bone to pick with and fucking Crowley. Talk about questionable taste!' he mocked, pulling a face.  
'I take it that you heard about the Virgin then?'  
'Kinda cool that you killed her. I didn't think she could be killed.' he leaned forward, sniffing at her. 'How about you come over to me, how about we pull the old double cross on your daddy, huh?'  
'Nah.' she reared up and stabbed the Devil in the eye. 

The knife was in her fist in an instant, he didn't see it coming, it was as much a part of her as her arm, as her hand. The First Blade had never felt like that, it was awkward under her touch, barely leashed to her will. This knife was perfection. .   
'Ouch!' Lucifer put a hand to his eye-socket, the gory wound scabbing over. 'That wasn't very nice.'  
'I'm not very nice.'   
'No, you're kinda scary.' he followed the path of the knife up her sleeve. 'What is that?”  
'Mine.' she clicked her fingers, vanishing from the plane and emerging in the wind, on a rooftop in Portugal.  
'Thank you.' Crowley cleared his throat.   
She looked at him, just a moment longer, then kissed him. She kissed him to say sorry, she kissed him with relief. He was warm under her hands, his mouth shaped perfectly to hers. His beard was unkempt and scraggly under her fingers, the bristles a little rough on her face.  
'Are you ok?'  
Stupid question, of course he wasn't. Being forced to act humble must have almost killed him. She took his hands turning them over, as if looking for a wound. Then, from sheer relief, she kissed him again.  
'How could you get yourself captured!'  
'Temperance.' their noses touching, her face tilted up to his.   
She could see the twin fires of rage and desire burning in his eyes and opened her mouth to ask him what had happened, when he spoke.  
'Forgive me.'  
She gently pulled away, but kept a hold of his hands.  
'Not right now.' she said, frowning down at his bruised fingers. 'I'm still mad at you.'  
'I miss you.' he sounded wretched.   
'Yeah.' she nodded, turning away. 'I miss you too, but I need to do this properly.'  
He left her in the frigid air and she made her way back to the brothers. 

Dean was awake, looking stressed, when she returned. She gave him a small smile, happy to see the tension roll out of his stiff back when she sat down.   
'Never, ever, do that again!' he growled. Then with a shake of his head he asked. 'Is he, you know, free?'  
'Of course.' she nodded. 'Stabbed the Devil and all, went with a mix of plan A and B.'  
'Plan stupid.' he reached for a beer, opening one for her too, to show he wasn't that angry. 'Did it work, is he dead?'  
'No, but he was fucking shook, and injured. He didn't stop me from leaving.'  
'Thats something! I'm gonna tell Cas to put the new wards up, now that you're back.'  
Castiel had spent some time working on a new magical configuration that should keep the place safe. He had factored in the recently released Devil too, luckily  
The Bunker wards were weak from constant tampering and changing, they all realised the gapping hole in their defences and were happy to submit to Castiel's runes.   
She felt the magic settle over her, where she sat, and wondered, grimly, if they could get Crowley in, if needs be.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Yeah, but, its going to kill you.' a silence stretched between them 'Its changing you, we all know it is, and I'm not going to watch you die again. I'm not going to let that happen.'  
> 'It was a means to an end.' she rubbed the Mark, tracing it under her shirt sleeve. She wanted to say something to him, something she could not say to Dean. Sam was a lot more ruthless than his brother, she knew that, he had a rigid capability.   
> It occurred to her, not for the first time, that he had wanted to kill her when she had been a Demon, but had been over-ruled....
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

It was a month before she saw Crowley again, she spent most of that month thinking. It was very not punk of her, she began to worry she was changing too much. The glaring problem with trying to do the right thing was that she didn't want to, she didn't want to admit that what she and Crowley had was toxic to the core. She still loved him, she was pretty sure she was in love with him.   
She drank her way through the remaining whiskey, woke up with a killer hangover and tried to steam herself sober in the shower. While staring at the back of Dean's shampoo bottle she realised that she wanted to see Crowley, right then, that she desperately wanted to hear his voice, feel him next to her. She dressed, attacked her hair with a brush and gave in.  
She text him. He appeared beside her, starving for something just like she was. He stood too close, he looked too intently. 'Do you want to go for a coffee?' she asked.  
'You don't like coffee.'  
'This country makes shite tea.'  
He snapped his fingers, they appeared in a tiny tea room overlooking a hillside that was white with snow.   
'How do you keep getting through the Bunker wards?'  
I noticed Feathers had put new ones up, he left a space for me, however.'  
'Oh.' she looked at the dark grained wood of their table, tracing the pattern with her eyes.  
'You look beautiful.' he said, his eyes riveted to hers, a vein bouncing in his temple.   
'Thanks.' she waited for the server to finish a complicated little ritual, pouring tea from a height without spilling it. 'I am so angry at you, and at myself, its wearing me down.'  
'I know, I deserve it.'  
She blinked, waited. 'Do you?'  
'I acted reprehensibly. I was desperate and I did something unforgivable.' he fiddled with his lacquered cup.   
'I need you, I've always needed you. I was so afraid that if I told you the truth you would balk and I'd never have you again.'  
'Have me?” she tasted the tea, frowned at the painted saucers. 'Have me.'  
'That was a poor choice of words' he sounded strained, and more than a little angry.  
He could catch the trail of human thoughts easy enough, but he had never managed to hear hers. She just wanted him to feel her turmoil, because she still didn't know how to put it into words, but he would not be able to and she could not let him in. She agonised over what to say.  
'You have made me happier than I could ever have been, but you've also made me so much more of a fucking ruin. Love shouldn't be this hard.'  
He gasped, his fingers stretched for hers but stopped short of touching, she could feel the thin heat rising from his skin and she wanted to kiss him again.  
'I just couldn't let you die. I debated with myself for years, for bloody decades. I couldn't do it, I love you. I'm selfish. I wanted you to live so you had to.'  
'I think that I forgave you for that.' she pointed out. 'I'm trying to right that with myself.'  
'Darling.' he moved around the table, to be beside her. 'Temperance you don't have to forgive me, just please, please don't cut me out.'  
'I needed head space, without you around to get in the way. I missed you, I knew that I would and I did. I just feel so fucking stupid, so fucking small. Christ.' she saw him flinch from the word.   
'I've been angry at myself for having such a lack of self respect.'  
'No, stop.' he took her hand to his mouth and kissed it. 'Stop, I adore your ferocity. I worship your pride and your poise and your awful taste in music. Don't you dare say you have no self respect.'  
'Would a self respecting person forgive this shit?' she asked, genuinely curious about his opinion. 'You broke my trust and all I want to do it take you in my arms and make you feel whole again, but I don't feel whole, not at all.'  
He dropped her hand, gently, onto her lap, moved back to his seat. 'You need more time.'  
It wasn't a question, so she didn't answer, just nodded when he suggested returning home.  
Alone, she realised she hadn't asked him about Hell, and she felt bad about it, but she did need more time. She had seen him, she had spoken to him, she could go on from there.

It wasn't long before she found out exactly how bad Hell was with Lucifer at the helm. Castiel arrived in the Bunker with news and a fresh set of bruises across his face.   
'Civil war has broken out on the plains. Crowley still has support in Hell, he plans to ward Lucifers vessel against him, then imprison him in his Cage. There is talk of the Fallen rising to the battle, the remaining Princes of Hell who fell from Grace with Lucifer.'  
'Does he need help?' Dean offered, seeming to surprise himself by offering.  
'It is doubtful you could help, he needs powerful Demon allies, I have offered my support in your stead.' he nodded to Dean who shrugged.  
Temperance frowned down at the pair of them, then flicked her eyes over to Sam. He was looking steadily at her.  
'Tem, you wanna go help him?'  
'If you can't help your best friend reconquer Hell, whats the point in being more powerful than god intended?' she was going for mischievous good humor, but he didn't seem to buy it. 'You don't think that I should?'  
'I think Lucifer is after you, your father is after you and Crowley can take care of himself.'  
'No he can't, honestly, should have seen the state of him when I got down there last month.'  
'Tem, come on, be serious!'  
Dean patted his brothers arm, to get him to lay off. 'How is the Book translation coming?' he asked, to change the subject.  
'Badly.' Sam said, 'Theres a codex but you need another codex to read that! Not to mention the damn thing is written with human blood on old skin, its a mess! I did find out why Tem can't look at it though, its cursed, or warded really, against the Mark.'  
'So, thats good right?” Dean perked up 'It means that there is a spell to remove the Mark in it?'  
'Maybe.' San shrugged.  
'Guys, if the Devil and Michael want the Mark removed, I feel like we should be trying to keep it on.'  
'Yeah, but the spell might be good leverage, in a pinch.' Dean reasoned.  
While they chatted she took out her phone and sent a text to Crowley, asking if he needed her.  
He didn't reply until early the next morning, all he said was that is wasn't safe. Which wasn't an answer. A brief, but consuming, flare of anger made her drop the phone, it landed screen down on the concrete floor of the garage.   
'Shit.' she picked it up, it was still on, still working, though the glass was cracked.   
She hated mobile phones, she only had one because of Crowley, and he only gave them to her to track her location. With a pang she put her hand to her chest, where the emerald used to rest near her heart.   
'Where are you.' she text him, squinting through the cracks. He replied with a picture taken through the window of his flat in London. It was raining, heavy grey skies over tall buildings.  
She knew how to get there.

'What are you doing here?” Crowley sneered, a few Demons scattered at her approach, backing out of the office. She recognised one or two of them, but had never been on first name terms with any of Crowley's minions. He was sitting in a leather arm chair, under a Franz Kline she thought was in MOMA, and curtly gestured the remaining Demon's away.  
'Well, I broke my phone and I've never actually bought one myself, I don't know where to begin.' she sat down on the arm of the chair, he didn't pull away. 'Why is the Apple one so expensive, does Nokia still have Snake and why does everything come chockablock filled with conflict minerals?'  
He was looking resolutely at the opposite wall, hand on his chin. Angry, pouting, a little adorable. She cut him some slack, all of it, she gave up.   
'So, anyway, I was angry. I'm still angry, but I can't live without you.' she held out her broken phone, it had been shot at and driven over, definitely broken. She shot it twice with Dean's crossbow, just to make sure.  
He took it in his other hand, still not looking at her or responding. He leaned back, tapped his foot on the rug, made a show of ignoring her. He was dressed in his usual suit, his collar starched and his beard was neatly tripped. The once and future King of Hell. She wondered what the sex would be like.   
'Do you just give me your old ones, or do you pre-programme in Sir Mix-A-Lot for the craic?'  
He looked down at the broken thing, rubbed his thumb over the screen, tracing the shatter patterns. She followed that thumb, waiting a moment before trying to rise with a sigh. His hand came down quickly, clamping onto her arm, holding her still.  
He took a breath. 'The iPhone wont fit in your pockets. Nokia is made by a new company now. I would prefer you to have a Samsung, with a few modifications and conflict minerals make the world go round.'  
'Ok.' she smiled, he still wasn't looking at her, but his hand was locked on her wrist.  
'They are my old ones, no point wasting a new one on you when you barely use them.' he sniffed. 'But I'm rather attached to the one I currently have, so I will have to order you one.'  
'Right.' she nodded.  
'A pink one.'  
'Of course.'  
'Hello Kitty cover and all.'  
'Heavenly.'   
He broke then, smirked and looked at her, triumphantly.  
'See, I told you that you always forgive me.'  
She rolled her eyes. 'Yeah, you were right, for once.' Before he could say anything to ruin it, she bent down and kissed him. She needed him, she missed him, he felt so familiar. His stubble wasn't scratchy this time, she raked her nails through it just for the hell of it before dipping her hand under his jacket and pulling her emerald out of his breast pocket.  
When she broke the kiss and stood up, he looked pleasantly dazed.  
He followed her to the door, taking the chain and putting it around her neck, he rested a finger on the stone, briefly, then waved her on her way, grinning like an idiot. She didn't leave immediately, watched him sit back down, flicking out his coat tails and settling an ankle over his knee. He looked so confident, so sure of himself.  
A phone arrived one morning, black and plain. When she powered it on she found he had uploaded all her contacts and took the time to set his nicknames for everyone, he had chosen a wallpaper already.  
'Woah!' Dean took the device from her hand 'You still got that bikini?'  
'Wanna borrow it?' she scowled, taking it back and quickly erasing the photo from Sardinia.   
'So, you guys are talking again?'  
'Yes.' she looked at him, Dean managed not to glare but she felt a sifting disappointment radiating off him.   
'Just, I mean, you know what you're doing, but be careful. Please.'  
'Careful is my middle name.' she said, deadpan, closing off any argument with a glare.

After three days Crowley clearly thought he had played hard to get for long enough. His messages became increasingly flirtatious, she turned off the phone. He turned it on again. She took out the battery, he text Dean instead.  
'Jesus!' he spat, jumping up and covering his eyes 'That man is damaging my psyche.' he threw his phone at Temperance across the table and ran away.   
The message almost made her blush. She text back a one word reply of 'creep' and dropped the phone into Dean's pocket.  
'Hey, Tem?' Sam poked his head in. 'Um, remember the Darkness?'  
'Yeah?' she scratched her arm absently. It had been a few days since it had really bothered her, now it was at its usual low-level hum. A sort of back of the mind urge to feast on the blood of the innocent.   
'I found something.' he took out his notebook and settled down beside her.  
'Amara, I know that name, its the name for Paradise in a few Ethiopian myths. It is a thing? An actual monster?' she wondered, aloud.  
'It's, well, its an old legend. It's older than old, the Angels think its old. Theres a chance it is as old as God himself.'  
'Cool' she said. 'And?'  
'Oh, right, well. In one particular the legends all meet up, The Yin to God's Yang. Amara is the darkness of creation and God is the light, they have to exist together for creation to keep going on.'  
'According to who?' she blinked. 'Everything we have would be biased towards your god, it's his world.'  
Sam opened his mouth to argue, closed it slowly and nodded. 'You're not wrong.'   
'So the Mark, it's keeping the Darkness at bay? The shit that I feel because of it, thats what, it trying to get free?' She rolled back her sleeve. 'If this is The Evil and god is The Good then they exist together, they balance each other. There needs to be a Mark Bearer, its part of the order of things.'   
'God locked that thing up. He probably knows what he's doing, but, it wasn't made for you. It needs to go.'  
'Its balancing out the universe, you just said so!'  
'You don't even believe in good and evil!' Sam pointed out.  
'Two sides of the same coin, was always my theory, this fits with it.'  
'If Michael and Lucifer get a hold of it, if its a power they can harness, then we are all in danger. Not just us, the entire world.'  
'Sam, we can't take it off in that case. Better to keep it on and keep that power away from them.'  
'Yeah, but, its going to kill you.' a silence stretched between them 'Its changing you, we all know it is, and I'm not going to watch you die again. I'm not going to let that happen.'  
'It was a means to an end.' she rubbed the Mark, tracing it under her shirt sleeve. She wanted to say something to him, something she could not say to Dean. Sam was a lot more ruthless than his brother, she knew that, he had a rigid capability.   
It occurred to her, not for the first time, that he had wanted to kill her when she had been a Demon, but had been over-ruled.   
He was staring at her, she thought he was trying to convey something, his dedication, his understanding, his love, his commitment to his cause.  
She shook her head, no he wouldn't kill her if it happened again, she would have to extract a promise from Castiel, though he was a little too human these days. Half fallen.  
Her mind wandered down an errant path and she asked 'Are Dean and Cas riding?'  
'Huh? What? Ride?' Sam blinked, pushing himself back an inch from the table. 'What?'  
'I was thinking about them and I don't know if they are together or not. We never talk about it. They act a little married.'  
'Definitely fucking.'  
Crowley had appeared, his long black coat and handmade suit hilariously out of place against the mainly plaid filled washing basket he was sitting beside. He had eyes only for her.  
'Crowley!' Sam stood up. 'Its, uh, well, I'm glad you're not dead, I guess.'  
'Oh, Samantha, such a flirt.' He flashed his teeth at the Hunter who left the room with an audible sniff.  
Temperance turned her body round to him, saw the flicker as his eyes flashed down her throat to the bouncing pulse in her neck. 'You think they are?'  
'Well, Wings is always giving Dean the bedroom eyes, in my humble opinion.' he stood up, soothing his silk tie.  
'Humble?'  
'Well, you know what I mean.' he bent over her, brushing her lips with his own, his breath hot on her skin.  
She let her eyes flutter closed, gently trapping his trembling lower lip with hers. He pulled away too soon, too suddenly, clearing his throat as Dean appeared around the corner.

'How the hell did you get in?' Dean growled.  
Temperance shook her head, picking up the washing basket. 'I'll put a wash on.' she muttered hurrying down the corridor.  
'You know the warding on this place makes it a target? You're practically screaming to all the big bad's that you're here.' Crowley shrugged 'Of course, they all know that you are here,'  
'We know, it aint ideal, but its what we got.' Dean sat down, watching with narrowed eyes as Crowley opened his jacket and took a seat across from him. The Demon seemed content in the silence. 'Cas told us that Lucifer is causing you a lot of trouble, um, you know, we wanna help with that.'  
'Golly, the Boy Scouts to the rescue?' Crowley chuckled. 'Well, if you have a grand plan to get rid of Lucy I am all ears.'  
'Not much of one, but we can help. Cas said you wanna ward his vessel and lock him in the Cage again?'  
'Yes, tougher to execute than it appears. I'm running out of allies I am afraid, I thought Temperance could lend some muscle.'  
'You fucked up.' Dean finally said, considering the proposal, Temperance would be first in line to help Crowley. 'You hurt her, you really hurt her. What you did, it was just wrong.'  
'I'm a bloody Demon.' Crowley pointed out.  
'But you were supposed to be her best friend. She trusted you more than anything, anyone, she would have torn down Heaven if you asked her to. You know that. You made yourself like that for her, so that you could get forgiven.' he shook his head, in disgust. 'Why were you so desperate to have her that you lied like that? That you manipulated her? No one fucking likes self fulfilling prophecy Crowley, no one.'  
Dean found his hands shaking under the table and held them tightly knotted together, he was so angry at the bastard. He used people, he played people, he had no right to do that to Temperance.  
Crowley chewed over his words a moment, not smiling, not frowning. He had his crimson laced, brown, eyes narrowed and spent a moment drumming his fingers against each other.  
'I was, as you say, desperate, because she was everything I ever wanted, everything that I ever needed. She arrived in my life and knew exactly who I was and she loved me, so I loved her. How could I not? I found her and loved her, all of her darkness and all of her light, and so she came to love me and it was all one horrible circle. We're passed that now, in a place where she tries to forgive me and I try to earn back her trust, to deserve her love.' he spread his manicured fingers. 'I know you think that she has forgiven me completely. She hasn't, she wants to, but she hasn't yet and I don't think she ever will. So I'm here at the end of the world, as always, to help you. I've come out of my nice, safe, hiding spot to do something a good man would do. I want to be that. For her.'  
Dean had to pick his jaw up after that, he hand't expected an answer. 'Demon's can't love.' he grunted  
'Is that so?' Crowley rubbed his temples, a shockingly human gesture. 'I was human once, you know, I loved her then and that never changed. Death didn't stop it.'  
'She said, um, she implied that it was her fault that you're a Demon. She's got a lot of guilt from that, man, a whole lot of anguish she doesn't need.'  
'I know.' he stood, walking to the door and stopping, to look Dean fully int the face 'Thank you, for being her friend. For loving her, for taking care of her. I personally hate your martyrdom and bloody, ugh, ethics, but whatever you need from me Dean Winchester, you can have it.'  
'Um, thanks.' he muttered as the Demon followed Temperance to the laundry room. Leaving Dean to contemplate what exactly it meant to have a Demon as a friend. Crowley, kind of, was a friend. An ally at least. He sighed, going to the fridge for a beer, trying not to picture Crowley living with them.

'You look ravishing when you're being domestic.' a predatory gleam of teeth as he stalked across the tiled floor. Temperance slid the washing powder box back onto its shelf, shaking her head.  
'If thats all it takes to get you off I'll have to send back the whips and chains.'  
He caught her around the waist, pressed a few fluttering kissed to the curve of her throat 'I'm easily pleased.' he murmured, washing her skin in a flush of heat. 'I just want you naked and begging for my cock, is all.'  
'Jesus!' Sam smacked into the door frame, hands clasped around his ears.  
'Ugh!' Crowley made a noise of disgust. 'This place is massive, can we not have a little privacy!'  
'Not in the goddam laundry room!' Sam threw down his washing basket and walked briskly away.  
'Begging?' she asked, when the man was gone. 'Not really my style.'  
'I'm sure that I could make you.' he practically purred the words in her ear.  
'Is that a threat, or a promise?' she asked in a low voice and was delighted to see him shiver.   
'What brings you here, anyway?'  
He took her hand, brining almost reverently to his lips. 'I'm here because I translated the spell, we can get the Mark of you, keep one step ahead of Micheal and Lucifer. If you want.'


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There goes how many years of practiced avoidance, he's letting it all spill out now. It feels good though, this first little crack, this first nudge towards a flood of truth. She's a safe person to do this with, every time he looks at her he thinks she understands him, she gets him. She knows him....
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up, I'm useless at writing sexy bits.

In the library Sam jumped up. 'Thats great! What do we need?'  
'Something made by god and forbidden to man, something made by man and forbidden to god and a little latin mumbo jumbo. Namely, the Fruit of Knowledge and the Idol of mount Sinai.' Crowley usually would have laboured how superior his knowledge was, but at that moment he spoke plainly, eyes locked on Temperance.  
'The Apple and the Golden Calf? Shit, how do we find those?'  
'I'm on it.' Crowley said, 'As per usual I'm a thousand steps ahead of everyone.'  
Sam bit back a smile 'So, you, um, sticking around?'  
A beat, Crowley seemed to be holding a breath in, Temperance touched the back of his hand. 'Yes.' said Crowley 'Until this is all done.'  
'Need to fix up the wards again, I guess.' Sam sighed, standing up, pulling a journal from under a stack of books and paper. 'I'm on it.'  
Temperance could feel the weight of his eyes on her heart, she laced her fingers through his. 'Come with me.'  
'Oh, ladies first is how I was raised.' he smirked, following her to her room. He tossed his coat aside, crossing the floor to sit on her bed.  
'I think I don't want my father to kill me, you know me, happy enough to die at the drop of a hat, but not him. Fuck, not him.' she put her back to the wall, looping her legs over his.  
'I wont let him.' his fingers gently trailing up her calf, over her knee.  
She let her head bounce on the panelling, blowing out a breath. 'I'm sorry, that I'm doing a piss poor job of forgiving you. In the face of, yet again, certain death I know the only person I can live for, is you. No way I can live for myself.'  
His hand clenched on her thigh, she saw his nostrils flare. 'I'm not him.' his tone desperate 'I'm not him anymore.'  
'I should have kissed you years ago. I should have kissed you in Sardinia. You.'  
'Temperance' he sighed.  
'It's alright, if you don't want me anymore.'  
'I want you every way.' he put an arm around her waist and twined her close. 'I love you every way that I can.'  
'Good' she nodded, leaning in to give him a gentle kiss, a loving kiss, a promise.

He held her close for a moment, then released her, she tugged at him until he was sitting against the headboard. She took the pin out of her hair, he ran his fingers through it, pressing a lock to his lips. 'Do you remember that night, in your house?'  
'How could I forget.' he murmured.  
'Tell me, what you remember.' she slowly unbuttoned his jacket and waistcoat, pressing her hands to his chest.   
'You kissed me.' he lay back at her touch, his eyes fluttering closed when her lips brushed over his skin, shit, that was electric. Warm and soft and teasing. 'You told me you loved me. We fucked until we were sore.'  
'We didn't fuck.' she said, kissing down over his stomach, opening his belt. He shivered as her palms skimmed over his thighs. He gritted his teeth as she opened his flies, she was so close to the aching hard length of his cock. So very close.   
'We made love.' he managed to gasp, hips twitching with the strain of his desire.   
'Do you know how good it was for me?” she asked, he could feel her breath through the rough silk of his boxers. Her lips caught the material, dragging it askew.  
'No.' he panted, fingers curled into the bedsheets, he wanted to hold her head and grind against her wet mouth. He wanted her, he needed her.   
Her fingers hooked the waistband and pulled the thin fabric down over his thighs. When he was naked on her bed she took her time kissing her way up his legs. Her teeth were firm on the inside of his thigh, his cock jumped as she bit down. 'It was better than anything I had felt before.' her voice, sweet as sin, pitched low and intimate, just for him. 'You felt amazing, all the things you did, how you trembled and bit your lips and tried to hold back. I could feel every fucking inch of you screaming for release from the second we started and it was incredible. It was so fucking hot, and it was all for me.'  
He can't think, his body is a mass of raw nerves, he's too sensitive, to wound up. Her tongue flicks over his adams apple and he can barely turn his head to capture a kiss. Her breath on his ear, those sharp teeth. He shakes his head, shuddering and tries to flip over onto his stomach, to roll her beloved body beneath him so he can dive between her legs and drown in her.  
She's not going to let him though, her hands are holding him down and in a breath she has straddled his hips, crossed her arms over her waist and pulled off her shirt. 'Look at me, Gus.'  
He groaned, it didn't break the spell, it pushed back his screaming need to come, it gave him breathing space. He fixed her with a stare. 'Broke my heart when you stopped calling me that.' he could feel his eyes melting red and raw, he could see her, properly see her like this. He could see each heart beat, he could see a vague impression of great wings. His own Angel, his own fucking Angel. 'I love you.'  
She bent to kiss him. 'I still love you. I will always love you and, Gus, I want you.'  
He let her set a torturous pace against his body, doing his best not to whine when she arched her back, rolling her hips forward and somehow making him feel like a virgin, constantly on the brink of something wonderful he couldn't reach.   
If this was sex he didn't know what he had been doing.   
For that one glorious moment, it was as if the past year hadn't happened, she threw back her head and his hands sank into her hips. Finally, he was where he belonged, he was inside her, they were one. He felt the chaos of rising pleasure and bit his lip against it, struggling to hold on. He was the King of Hell, he could restrain himself, he could delay, but he couldn't, fuck he couldn't. Not with her, never with her, it was all or nothing and it had been so long. So very, very, long.   
His life, the only woman he had ever loved, the only person he had ever loved beyond himself. It was perfect, he couldn't hold back, it was exactly as wonderful as he imagined. The old bed scraped over the floor, it shouldn't be here, it should be on satin sheets, with furs and a roaring fire. He wanted them to be the only people in the world and he never wanted to stop.   
She gasped, his name 'Gus!' her fingernails digging into his shoulders.   
She was his, his, and he was hers. Her eyes glittered with heavenly light. It was cold, searing, more painful than a burn, it was the icy embrace of the deepest, darkest sea.  
A strangled cry as he peaked and came, shuddering inside her as she clenched around him.  
He forgot for a moment how to breath, not that he needed to, as he rode that high to its end. Then, panting, aching, they pulled apart.   
'Temperance.' always Temperance, never Tempy, never Tem. 'My love.'  
She rested her head on his shoulder, he put an arm about her, like normal people. It couldn't last, he knew far too well, it was an ending not a beginning.   
She rose, washed in the tepid, rust flecked water, dressed. He heard the click as the cap came off her eyeliner, the scrape of a comb through her hair. He clicked his fingers, made himself presentable and wandered out into the fresh air. The trees were looking glum, bare and half dead.  
If he had a heart it might be breaking, she emerged, washed clean of everything, her body light as if gravity couldn't touch it. She had a mug in her hand, tea, how many times had those fingers been broken, had the skin on that hand been shredded.  
'When can we do it?' she asked. 'The spell?'  
'Soon, darling, very soon.'  
Nothing else needed to be said. She scanned the horizon, looking like she had all the time in the world. He realised, with a jolt, that she did.

'Hey.' Dean had been cleaning his guns, each weapon carefully laid out on the garage floor. 'Crowley around?'  
'Gone to find the fruit of knowledge.' Temperance glanced at the larger weapons and picked up a cut down shotgun. 'Are you related to this Winchester?'  
'Think I'd be living here if I was?” Dean flashed a grin, 'Thats an 82, modified it a little.'  
'Its cool looking.' she put it back.  
'You don't like shooting?' he began to pack everything back into the case in the boot of the Impala. 'You always go for a knife, get close with it.'  
'Seems fairer.' she sat on the work bench, kicking her heels. 'I'm actually a shit shot, don't tell anyone.'  
'Hell, I'll teach you. Dad drilled this shit into me.'  
'You want me to have ready access to a firearm?'  
He flinched, then considered her track record. 'No, I really don't.'  
That earned a little smile from her, a hard, fleeting one. '  
'Um, how are you doing?' he knows he's not good with emotional stuff, its weird how open she is to talking shit out these days, considering how angry and twisted she is inside. She shook her head a little, but its not a 'don't ask me' shake its a confused one, like she didn't know what to say.  
'I don't like this new plan to take the Mark off, honestly, it just seems like so much fucking trouble waiting to happen. The Darkness gets released and then, well, what the fuck does that do? How do we stop it hurting people? I mean, ok, if it kills the Devil and Michael first then I'm happy out.'  
'Yeah.' Dean knows what she's feeling, they cant control whatever this Darkness is, they don't know what it is. 'Tem, I know Crowley's coming from a good place. For once. He's looked into this, removing the Mark will be good for you and, if we're honest, thats all that matters. We can face everything else after.'  
'Whats it been like, for you? I know what its felt like for me, but thats because its been happening to me.'  
He looked at her fluttering fingers, she spoke with her hands a lot, moved them to make a point, they were musicians hands, long fingers, square tipped. Capable hands. When she was happy she made her point by drawing lines through the air with them, she painted a picture that no one could see, but they could feel it, maybe it was the Angel in her.   
'Its been hell.' he didn't want to see her flinch from his words, so he looked down at the grease stained floor.   
'Tem, it was scary, watching it consume you, inch by inch. You're so much better now, but, its still there, I can still see it killing you. I had never really seen you loose your cool until you took that Mark, it shattered you, you worked so hard to put yourself back together. I could tell, Sammy could tell. You were diligently tryna fix yourself but it was too much of a fight to do alone. I know how much it hurt you, I know how bad it got. I could see you hating yourself, hating everything, I could feel the anger and it wasn't 'cause of the Mark. It was anger towards it, towards yourself, like you were trying to drown out the curse with all of yourself. You weren't eating, you were barely sleeping. I watched you for, hell, a few hours once. Just staring at the wall, you weren't breathing, blinking. I only knew you were alive cause you were crying!' he felt a pang, a sharp pain in his throat, a raw sting and swallowed it back.   
'It hurt you.' she said.  
'Yeah, it did, I couldn't help you. I couldn't save you.'   
There goes how many years of practiced avoidance, he's letting it all spill out now. It feels good though, this first little crack, this first nudge towards a flood of truth. She's a safe person to do this with, every time he looks at her he thinks she understands him, she gets him. She knows him  
'You did though!' she tapped his arm until he had to turn and face her and see that upside-down grin of hers.   
Crowley gets to kiss those lips, he thought, not as angrily as he would usually have. Crowley gets all those smiles. Fuck, he still wants her, he hates it, why cant it stop. If she so much as fluttered her eyelashes at him he'd tear off her jeans and take her then and there. He'd fuck all he had into her and out of her until they were just, something else, until they were other people, normal people. People who had jobs and houses and kids and got to grow old. Why can't he get over this, its not like she's ever shown the slightest interest in him, not in that way.  
'You saved me from me, you took me out of Hell and made me a person again. You cared for me and gave me what I needed. You saved me, Dean, I'd be dead for real if not for you .'  
'Yeah?' he feels a weak smile crack across his lips. 'Well, I'm awesome.'  
'So fucking awesome.' she agrees.  
It hits him, she's not even being sarcastic, like everyone else he's managed to fool her into thinking he's a worthwhile person.   
'How did you do it? Put yourself back together after all this shit?”  
'Drinking too much and ignoring it until it went away didn't seem to be working.' she said, shrugging, and Dean has to admit that that is his usually go to plan to get through life.   
She took a small tin from her pocket and began to roll a joint, shredding the bud with her nails. 'I had to think about it, really fucking think about it. It was a blessing to be fucked back in time, without the Mark I could think straight. I could see myself laid out, surgically, I knew how to help myself in a way that I had never known before. I was human and I had a choice, I had to try and make my mind work the way human minds work and it took all of my concentration to do it. If I hadn't had that time I'd still be fucked, I am still a bit fucked.' she licked the paper, sealing it closed.  
'Is that why you could forgive Crowley?'  
'One of the reasons.' she hopped off the bench 'But you don't want to talk about him.'  
Dean sighed, heavily, he knew it was a world weary sound. She was right, he really didn't want to talk about Crowley.   
'We've been fighting an uphill battle for so long.' he accepted the offered joint from her fingers and spluttered on the smoke.   
'First it was Hunting with Dad, then Sammy's girlfriend gets fried, then Dad goes and disappears, next theres Heaven and Hell and Angels and Demons. I fucked up the world to save Sam, then we meet you and it seems like things are gonna go well, you know? A Hunter chick who knows what she's doing, who can help out, but we fuck that up too, we pull you into getting the Mark. Into killing your Mom and Dad and then you fucking kill yourself in my arms, I think my heart stopped beating when you did it. So theres a new problem, gotta fix that, gotta cure you and try and get the Mark off, but before we can get that straight the fucking Devil is on the rampage and he's teamed up with some bastard Angel to destroy the world.'  
He shakes his head at the futility of it all, she takes his hand, its nice, its been so long since anyone held his hand. He looks into her eyes, she's not got kind eyes, she's got eyes full of secrets and pain and humor, but she looks back with something that makes him feel safe.   
She looks at him the way Castiel does, with love, unconditional, and with hope. She trusts him, she really does, and that breaks his heart.   
He's horrified to feel hot tears sting under his eyelids and he looks away, not quickly enough though. She pulls him into a hug and he presses his face to her shoulder. Its been so long since someone held him, so long since he's had a gentle touch, he's picked up a few dates over the years, he's smiled and felt good for a while but the only regular contact he has is so violent, so vicious. If he's not grabbing someone to stab 'em, he's sinking his fists into them. He wants to be held. He wraps his arms around her waist, he holds her as close as possible. She's giving him this, she's letting him feel, he's supposed to be helping her out for Christ sake!  
'Its okay.' she soothes, rubbing circles into his back. 'I've got you.'  
He starts crying, great heaving sobs and he can't stop. He doesn't know how long it lasts, but he keeps crying until the tears stop and she, so gently, so carefully, in a way he could never imagine her being, she brings him to his room and lies him down on his bed. He feels spent, more tired than he's ever felt in his life, a bone deep exhaustion dragging him down, down, down and before he thinks about it, he's asleep.  
His dreams are slippery things, he doesn't remember them when he wakes, just knows that he's been dreaming of places he's not though of in years, people long dead, but all that is blown away like dust when he gets out of bed, a new man.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Hey where do you think you're going!' spat an irate Lucifer, he had picked up her knife and was holding it out, threateningly.  
> She shrugged, brushing him aside. 'East' she said, to the east, where things begin. She thought about her dad trying to teach her Mah Jong, about all the chess games after dinner, Risk and Diplomacy all the games of chance and logic and war. He had taught her how to survive.   
> She had her eyeliner in her shirt pocket, John's lighter and 3 bright yellow pills that may or may not be speed in the lining of her jacket, her phone with a little battery life remaining and an emerald around her neck. East seemed good....
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

Spring arrived with force, as if it was making up for lost time. Dean was wary about taking jobs too far from the Bunker and even more wary of letting Temperance and Sam out of his sight.   
'Its grocery shopping!' Sam shouted at him, one morning. 'Dean its 45 minutes away, I'll be fine!'  
'Crowley or Cas can get 'em.' Dean tried to reason.  
'No! I'm going, I need to get out, please.' Sam grabbed Temperance's car keys and all but ran for the garage, leaving Dean alone to fume and go tinker with his weapons.  
It was still strange to see Crowley hanging round, he might appear in the library, in the showers even, dressed down in a shirt and slacks and taking Dean by surprise. He was easy to live with though, for all his complaints he seemed happy to pretend to be human for a little while. The Demon waltzed into the kitchen, grinning.   
'Howdy partner.' he said, affecting a terrible southern drawl.  
'Check it out!' Dean held out bullets in his palm 'Made em from an Angel Blade, should fit the Colt.'  
'Fascinating.' Crowley looked down distastefully. 'Any idea where Temperance keeps the whiskey.'  
'Under the sink.' he snorted 'Don't tell her that I know.'  
'Wouldn't dream of it!' he put a finger to his lips and rummaged in the press a few moments, before rising, triumphant, with a bottle. He poured a measure and sat, scrutinising Dean's sacred bullets.   
'Hey!' Sam appeared, arms full of bags. He set down these down and threw a packet of jerky to his brother.  
'Sweet!' Dean tore into it, offered the open packet to Crowley who shook is head.  
'So, whats the plan?' Sam asked Crowley. 'We got anything new to go on?'  
Dean, set his packet of jerky aside with a sigh. 'Cas hasn't been back with any new info.'  
Sam looked around for Temperance, then carefully sat down 'She doesn't want to remove it, she reckons its way more trouble than its worth.'  
'You both have really had an awful affect on her, you know that?' Crowley shook his head, sucking in a breath. 'She's never been so bloody selfless in her self destruction before, its sinful. Not the good type of sinful either.'  
'Cut the crap!' Dean kicked the Demon's chair leg 'She's doing what she thinks it right.'  
'If we get this spell together we can remove that Mark and things might just make sense again.' Sam pressed his hands together  
'Make sense?” Crowley asked 'Good gracious, who wants sense. Now chaos, chaos is a nice big tasty thing. Lets set the Darkness free and revel in world ending terror!'  
'You don't want to have her back the way she was?' Dean asked, curiously. Crowley seemed to have spent the past few years alternatively raging against her spending time with the brothers and forcing her deeper into their lives. Dean knew that he was protective of her, fiercely so. It made him believe that Crowley really loved her.  
'Squirrel, she never changed, not that much. She has grown is all. She wont and would not want to go back, going back isn't in her nature. Regret isn't in her nature.'  
'So, you don't wanna remove the Mark?' Sam asked, quietly.  
'Of course I bloody do! I don't want her kidnapped and tortured anymore than you do, Moose! However, I will respect that it is her decision to choose, she needs time to mull over the facts, but when she decides thats that.'  
'What are the facts? I mean, we know the spell, but what are the consequences?'  
'The Darkness brings about an apocalypse, we deal with that when we get to it. Blah, blah, blah.' Crowley reached a hand into his pocket, pulling out a slim notebook. 'I have a contact for the Idol, we should gather the ingredients and have them at the ready. Just in case.'  
'I've been thinking.' Dean said, ignoring Crowley's mocking look of shocked surprise. 'Maybe theres a way to transfer the Mark, like Cain did. Someone else takes it and we don't tell who.'  
'Would you?' Crowley asked, frankly. 'Of course you would, you're disgustingly predictable. Winchester, you're mortal, you can't take it. The only reason it hasn't killed her yet is because of heritage.'  
'Just an idea.' Dean shrugged 'I'm not overly keen on starting another End of Times.'  
'Neither is Tem.' Sam frowned at his brother, his brows contracting like a greek mask as he stood up 'I'm gonna research some more, maybe I'll find something.'  
Left alone with the Demon once more, Dean tried to think of something to say while Crowley spun his glass in his fingers.  
'How are you two, uh, doing?' Dean struggled a moment. 'I mean, she seems happier and you, well, you're here. In my house. Drinking my booze.'  
He didn't really expect an answer, so when Crowley leaned forward, thoughtfully, he flinched at how close they were.  
You know, we were never healthy. I was lying to her and she just needed someone who wouldn't die. She used me.' he shrugged 'But thats alright, I used her too. Thats the defining point of our friendship, its built on guilt.'  
Dean looked away, pained 'I'm sorry.'  
Crowley laughed, without mirth. 'I wouldn't trade it for the world.' He summoned another glass of whiskey, took a satisfied sip, then continued. 'Strange to think but I finally understand something thats been staring me in the face for years.'  
'Whats that?' Dean prodded his jerky without enthusiasm. He wished he hand't asked, wished he had stuck to asking about the spell.  
'That she wasn't my Temperance until she met you. She was a wreck, actively looking to die at every opportunity. Then along comes you, a lumbering pile of plaid and apple pie and suddenly she's a real, living, breathing person. You did that. I fell in love with her because of you, and because I fell in love with her I became a Demon. I owe everything to you silly little boys.'  
Silence followed this statement, as Dean wracked his brains to try and find words to say, but before he could, the door opened. Temperance walked in, carrying a kit bag, and Crowley rose to help her but a strange clanging drew their attention. Sam hurried back along the corridor.  
'The wards are being broken!'

A flickering of electric lights accompanied their visitor, Castiel arrived in the Bunker, bloody and bedraggled. The visual echo of his wings spread out behind him seemed torn, the ghostly limbs mutilated. Dean was first to his side, leading him to a seat. 'What happened?'  
'Michael and Lucifer attacked.' he shook his head 'I had a choice and I made it, I am fallen.'  
Even Crowley looked horrified by this statement, Temperance went on one knee beside the not-exactly-Angel and laid her hands on his skin. Her eyes glowed, flickering sparks of radiant light bounced around her body. Slowly his visible wounds seem to stitch themselves back together, he was still pale and sickly under the blood.   
'Thank you.' he winced, sitting up straighter 'Michael is readying to another attack, Hell is amassing its forces. The war is coming now, we are out of time.'  
'Shit.' Dean spat 'Shit, shit, shit!'  
Temperance sat back on her heels, a faraway look in her, still light-stained, eyes. 'Do we do it? Get rid of the Mark now?'  
'An apocalypse might distract them, I guess.' Sam sat, shakily, dropping his head to his hands. 'Dean?'  
Dean was still at Castiel's side, holding onto his shoulder, he looked at his brother, then down at Temperance 'I think we should.'  
'Me too.' Sam breathed.  
'As do I.' Castiel's voice was weak, trembling in his throat. He sounded less gravelly than usual.  
They all looked at Crowley, he didn't seem to notice the attention, his eyes were closed, and when he finally opened them, he was looking at Temperance. His hand twitched towards her, drawing her up.   
'Darling?'  
She searched his faced, it seemed that she didn't like what she found there, she frowned heavily.   
'We don't know what the Darkness will do?'  
'I don't care.' Crowley shrugged 'I'd rather stop Heaven and Hell obsessing over you, than keep you Marked, targeted.' He put his hands around her, nothing platonic in that gesture and it drew a raised eyebrow from the brothers, but no one spoke, they were all waiting. Waiting for Temperance.  
'Ok.' she said after an age of strained silence. 'Ok.'  
The relief was palpable, Sam bounced to his feet and Dean let out a tense laugh, Crowley remained silent, eyes locked with Temperance. He bent his head swiftly to kiss her, unheeding of the watching men and half awake ex-Angel.   
When they broke apart her face alight with such joy that Dean almost didn't recognise her. He didn't know why but it was awe inspiring. It made him think of the tremble of great music, of the feeling behind a sculpture, there was something breathtaking about her that he couldn't put to words. Dean knew, if she had asked him to die, he would do it happily in that moment. It was a madness, it was almost a physical want to do something, anything for her. The child of an Archangel, before their eyes, bathed in her own a holy light.   
He looked at his brother, his face creased with similar wonder, the play of energy from Temperance's presence made him look younger, it made them all glow. Castiel looked almost normal in that strange half light, but the greatest change was in Crowley.  
His eyes were crimson, his body veiled in an inscrutable shadow. Where his hands touched her, they seemed to glow, bloody and bright, from within. Like molten lava was moving under his skin and then, he smiled.  
It wasn't a smile anyone, bar Temperance, had ever seen before. He was happy, really, truly, perfectly happy. Content in a manner that a Demon should not be, could not be. They slipped away, into her room, the spell of their feeling lingering in their wake.

They lay side by side that night, curled around each other. She was perfect beside him, Crowley thought, it made him feel so horribly human, the taste of mortality on his tongue as he cradled her to his chest.  
'Gus.' she spoke to the sagging ceiling.   
'Temperance.' he took her hand beneath the blanket.  
'What aren't you telling me?'  
'Plenty of things.' he grunted. 'You know me, I've so many secrets.' He kissed down her arm, coiling his tongue over her fingertip.  
'From me?” she shifted beside him, pushing him onto his back, her hand spread in the centre of his chest.  
'Don't worry, darling.' he kissed her forehead, fingers trailing through her dark hair. 'I'd never hurt you, you know that.'  
'I love you.' she said, after a moment. 'I wish you would tell me whats bothering you.'  
'I will, but not now. Come on, it's bed time, big day tomorrow.'  
'Can I ask?' she paused 'I never asked you about the deal you and Constantine made.'  
'Ah' he tapped his fingers on his chest 'You wont like it.'  
'Probably' she turned on her side to look at him.  
'I got his soul, which I could never collect on but could use as insurance against anyone else trying it and in exchange he got another get out of death free card and some information.'  
'Which was?' she pressed.  
'He wanted to know about you.' he looked resolutely at the ceiling. 'It was just a few weeks after you first met. He was fascinated, love struck.'  
She was silent for long enough that he thought she must have fallen asleep, when he turned his eyes he saw that she was frowning, troubled and sad. 'What did you tell him?'  
'I told him that you liked tequila and terrible music. I told him that you thought cucumber was revolting and that you liked being on-top. I told him that you were half Demon and I hoped that would scare him away. I told him you were a terrible driver and you looked beautiful when you were angry.' he touched her chin, turning her face towards him. 'I told him that I loved you and he asked me if you loved me too.'  
'What did you say?'  
'Not yet, but give it a while.'  
She smiled, rolled her eyes.'Cocky bastard.'  
'You love it!' He kissed her, pulling her closer, shivering when she kissed back in that delectable way of hers.'Darling, when we defeat Lucifer, and Michael, would you do something for me?'  
'Anything.' she met his eyes, honest and open.  
'Go somewhere, somewhere different.'  
'Iceland.' she nodded 'We've never been.'  
'Iceland' he agreed. 'Why not?'  
'We'll take a plane.'  
'You can travel economy.'  
'Drink tepid Heineken from one of those tiny cans, eat a bag of stale pretzels and a horrible dry sandwich.'  
'Sounds heavenly' he smiled.   
'Promise me that this will work.' she swallowed 'Please.'  
'I promise, my love. Now, go to sleep.'  
'I'm not tired.' she arched into him, licking her lips, wickedly.   
'Oh?' he pinned her, quickly, holding her wrists above her head. 'Lets see if we can wear you out.'

Crowley had assembled the ingredients and carefully transcribed the spell from the Book, Temperance watched, spinning her new knife in her hands, Dean had found a block of wood and whittled a proper handle for it.  
'A quince?' she picked up the jar of ancient fruit. 'I always figured that it was a pomegranate.'  
'Went to a warlock in Palestine for that.' Crowley shook his head 'I hate Warlocks.'  
'I know, I remember Chile.' she snorted.  
'What about the Idol?'  
'That took a dash of ingenuity, great personal risk and a stop off in Jordan.' he held out a cloth covered flake of gold. 'Only one left, so lets not waste it.'  
'Thank you.' she said.  
'Do you love me the most out of everything ever?' he teased.  
'Of course.' she smiled, turning aside. Dean noticed the flicker of emotion that seemed to tear across Crowley's face, but it was so fleeting he couldn't say what it was. When the Demon put down the gold he looked determined.  
'Its in Latin.' Crowley handed a slip of parchment to Temperance who sighed, theatrically.   
'I hate Latin, I could never get my head around it.' she took the offered paper and put it in her pocket. 'Which is irritating, considering how much magic and nonsense seems to rely on it.'  
'You're fluent in a whole host of European languages, how on earth can you not muddle through a little bit of Latin?'  
'I like my languages living.' she seemed to frown at her Blade. 'Do you need this, really? It seems like over kill.'  
'Have to do this to the letter, darling.' was all Crowley said, flashing her a toothy grin as she set it in his hands.  
Without any sort of sound, or sight, both he and Temperance looked up sharply, eyes narrowing towards the front door.  
'What?' Dean asked, 'What is it?'  
'Someones trying to get in. Demon, maybe.'  
Sam threw the Colt to Dean and picked up a silver, antler handled, knife. 'Lucifer?'  
'Yeah.' Temperance stepped out, putting them all behind her. 'It's him.'  
'Shit!' Sam began to draw the rune, for the spell, onto the ground. 'Can we do this now?'  
Crowley went to Temperance's side, took her roughly in his arms and kissed her. It seemed t leave her a bit dazed, a liquid desire shone in her eyes when he let her go.  
'Binding spell, keep him busy while we work, and say the Removal spell when I tell you!' Crowley urged.  
'I will! Dean?” she looked around. 'Need to get close enough to stick a hex on him.'  
Dean held out a sure hand, ready for action, his mind settled now that it was time to work. 'Take the Colt, I'll do the binding, he wont expect it.'  
Dean was familiar enough with binding spells, he made one up quickly dividing it between two hex bags, one of which went into his pocket, the other he palmed, anxious energy making him twitch.  
'Wards are breaking!' Temperance warned, eyes glued on the ceiling.   
The room around them seemed to shake, mortar dust showered them from above as something strong broke against the roof. There was a flash of blinding red light, noise rushed at them, and suddenly, improbably. The Devil was standing in their sitting room, looking annoyed and dusting himself down.  
'Now!' Crowley shouted. Lucifer looked up, in mild interest.  
'Ab manu dei! Toille maledictionam tuam, ab hoc mehmet.' Temperance recited, dutifully, then raised the pistol.  
'No!' Lucifer screamed. 'Don't!'  
She didn't get to fire, Dean thought, wildly, that she had lost her balance, but it was happening to all of them. A horrible rolling sensation pitched them forward, The room had tilted, reality had bounced on its suspension and settled wrong. A screeching, echoing, sound forced them all to their knees, even Lucifer was clutching his ears, looking ashen faced. Dean screamed against the pressure behind in his ears, he thought his heard was going to split from it.  
Temperance recovered first, she was on her feet, blood on her face, moving, when something like a wave made of cold blue light began to bloom and crest in the air. A rush of power and heat crashed out from it, it caught her in the chest, and she threw up her arm. Her Marked arm, to protect her eyes.  
Dean lunged forward, his fist snapped down on the back of Lucifers exposed neck and he pressed the hex into his skin, dropping the bag into his shirt. He didn't have the time to enjoy his triumph, the wave of light seemed to shudder and shimmer and the world began to tear open before their eyes.

A pale stained expanse of dust and sand, a strange wind, a swirling storm of magical energy as reality tried to right itself. It was too much to think about, their minds all screaming at how horribly wrong it was. They were looking into another world, another universe, breathing in the hot, dry air of something entirely other.  
The rent between the worlds was worn and ragged. It seemed to drag them ever closer until, with a roar it sucked Lucifer and Dean through. The violent movement of the earth and the strong gales that had blown them across the boundary suddenly died down. Everything became still and quiet. Temperance bounded across the gateway and shot a round at the struggling Demon. He tumbled back, the bullet had hit his shoulder, the binding hex keeping him weak. She was on her feet, the gun tossed behind her and landing with a clatter, half on the Bunker floor and half on the barren desert of whatever realm they had opened.  
Dean struggled up and ran across the world to his brother, who was prepping the magic. 'I bound him, he's weak.'  
They worked in a frenzied rush, while Temperance jumped forward and tackled the Devil. She got a few good licks in, he threw her aside and she writhed, cat-like, in the air, landing impossibly on her feet, eyes wide and bright. She hissed at him, slashing with her nails and gouging a long streak across his throat.  
'One more ingredient.' Crowley said, his eyes went to her, as she played with her food. 'It needs a life.'  
'Lets do this!' Dean nodded, brushing himself down. 'Kill that bastard and get rid of the Mark.'  
Lucifer lunged to the strange gateway as he threw Temperance down, but Dean's bullet smacked into his knee and sent him spinning, leaving Crowley to approach with his usual suave calm.  
'This needs a life.' he explained, glancing at Lucifer. 'Say the words, darling. Twice more'  
Temperance wiped sand from her eyes. 'Ab manu hominis. Toille maledictionam tuam, ab hoc mehmet.' She recited the Latin spell, struggling for breath.   
The Mark was glowing more fiercely then ever before. 'Hurts' she grunted, gritting her teeth and shivering in the strange wind billowing from between the worlds.  
'Once more.' he urged and she obliged, falling to her knees to scream in pain as the Mark fought against her skin.  
'Ad cruore mei ad fusuro in aeternum! Toille maledictionam tuam, ab hoc mehmet.' she wailed. 'Shit, fuck, Gus! It hurts!'  
Crowley picked her up, kissing her face. 'We're so close, darling.'  
Lucifer was scrambling forwards, Sam aimed and fired this time, catching the Demon in the throat. Dean heard the snarl from his brother and laughed, the joy of the fight in his blood.

Crowley held out the Blade, smiling, then, with a click of his fingers, she froze.  
'Gus?' She was forced to move, jerking like a puppet on a string and unable to fight the mounting horror as her hands moved and took the knife from Crowley. She looked wildly into his face, the tip of the blade against his chest.  
'No.' Temperance wailed, horrible understanding crossing her face. 'My bleeding heart.'  
'Yes.' he kissed her forehead. 'It has to be this way, you see.'  
'I will never fucking forgive you.' she said, all steel and rage. 'You don't get to die, you fucking cunt. Not unless I fucking say so!'  
'Nows not the time for foreplay, Temperance.' he winked, cupping her jaw gently.  
'Please, Gus, do not make me do this.' she spat it through her teeth as if the force of her anger could break the world apart. He thought, truthfully, that one day it could.  
She shook her head as her voice cracked and broke with pain 'We win, we get to go home. We live. You promised.'  
'I lied.' he looked away.   
'You're sadistic and cruel, entirely devoid of decency, Gus, but you never lie, not really, not to me, you've never played a hand you can't win.' she was still bound by the ward, she couldn't touch him and she desperately wanted to. 'That's the fundamental thing, remember. Please, Gus. Stay here with me, please don't leave. Don't make me do this.'  
He smiled, the smile that was only ever for her. 'Funny thing that, remember,darling, I always win. I win not matter what.'  
'You've lost this time, pal' Lucifer snorted, spitting blood onto the sand as he pulled himself up towards the sparking gateway.  
'Yeah, but even when I lose, I win.' he looked over at the brothers, standing, mouths agape, in a different universe. 'Bye boys.'  
In an instant the knife was in his heart, his eyes sparking, as her mothers had when she killed her, his essence flared and died, stripping the life from his vessel. She kept his gaze as he went from behind his eyes, then he slumped, the body dead. He was gone. Forever. Her hands were covered in his blood and she never got the chance to scream.

The door between the worlds had opened when they began this spell and now they had finished it, it was cracking and crumbling, but she couldn't spare thought for that. Dean was screaming, but she couldn't hear him.  
She was thinking about the bone crushing pressure building up in her arm. She was on her knees, roaring, eyes flashing with light and shadow as the Mark burned. It bubbled under her flesh, blistering and darkening across her arm and then, just when the pain reached a frenzied pitch, it stopped, and there was a sudden lack of sound. An explosion of power and blinding light burst out of her and the Mark, in all its fiery glory, went out and as she fell back, she saw for the briefest moment, that her arm was smooth and unblemished. It was gone.  
The Mark of Cain was gone, the Darkness was free.  
Dean held out a hand as the gateway began to shimmer and shrink. Temperance, shaking her head, turned away from the rent in reality, snarling. Lucifer was jogging up the slope, shouting, his words lost by the tempest as the universe tried to stitch itself back together.   
'Fuck you.' she jumped, her feet slamming into his chest, they crashed in a dusty heap on the stone. Light flashed, time seemed to speed up, then suddenly, it was over. The universe was shut.   
He threw her aside, scrambling towards the now bare hilltop. 'No!' he roared 'No! You stupid fucking imbeciles!'  
She rolled over, dusted herself down and looked at the body. John's body had looked rough, bloodied and exhausted. This one didn't, it just looked dead. She touched Crowley's vessels face, just once. It wasn't his body and he was long gone from it.   
She rose and eyed the horizon, the dust, the desolation, it cold be worse, she thought a shivering absence of feeling in the core of her being.  
'Hey where do you think you're going!' spat an irate Lucifer, he had picked up her knife and was holding it out, threateningly.  
She shrugged, brushing him aside. 'East' she said, to the east, where things begin. She thought about her dad trying to teach her Mah Jong, about all the chess games after dinner, Risk and Diplomacy all the games of chance and logic and war. He had taught her how to survive.   
She had her eyeliner in her shirt pocket, John's lighter and 3 bright yellow pills that may or may not be speed in the lining of her jacket, her phone with a little battery life remaining and an emerald around her neck. East seemed good.  
Lucifer scoffed behind her, but she paid him no mind. The dunes gave way beneath her feet, rubble beneath, a fractured road appeared in the dust and she followed it.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a small shelter built there, a low space just big enough for someone to lie down, a mirror hung on a string by the entrance. She flicked it over in her hand, a cracked, round shaving mirror, stuck to a cord with a misshapen lump of packaging tape.  
> The remains of her eyeliner sat in a greasy smear at the corner of her eyes and her black shirt was crumbled and stained. In the night light of fire and flame she looked like a hangover. Mean and painful...
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

The town grew slowly, its blasted outer neighbourhoods leaning drunkenly into a small market square. A few buildings survived, a lob-sided bookshop, a cafe with little tables still set with dusty plates, a music shop. She paused there, peering through the grime, there was a drum kit.  
'You know what you've done!' Lucifer had been following her, at a distance, but he jogged up close to shout, now that she had stopped walking. 'You understand the scale of the hell that you have unleashed?'  
'Nope.' she turned around to look at him. He was a lot less scary now with dust in his hair and a few bullet holes in his flesh. She felt like she was seeing him for the first time.  
'Typical!' he rolled his eyes. 'Well, do you know what you've given up? You personally? You said the spell, tell me, anything missing?'  
'A chunk of my humanity.' she shrugged, she couldn't care. 'So what, my hearts gone and Gus with it, it doesn't matter.'  
'You are so damned annoying! I was coming to negotiate, you know that? I was coming to offer you guys a deal.'  
'I was really hoping that we could be friends this time.' she heard herself say, not entirely sure why. In the rubble of a cafe she noticed the glint of bottles, she bent down to these, ignoring what ever the Devil was saying to her now.  
She had to admit, it had a kind of poetry. A bad type of poetry. Crowley died and took her heart with him and she was stuck a world away from the consequences. She picked up a bottle, tequila, shook it to gauge its contents and looked at the half assembled drum kit through the music shops window. She liked where this was heading.   
She was free of the Mark, free of the Earth with all its baggage, she wondered what would happen if she died, here and now. Lucifer had stormed away, good riddance, she hoped that he didn't come back.   
It took a few moments to set up the drums, there was a battered oil generator in the back alley, she cranked it to life and went to check the tune of the instruments and to wipe down the filth. Whatever had happened in this world had killed this town a long, long time ago. There was a promotional poster on one wall, bleached and faded, advertising a record sale in 2008. At least these people had missed the recession, she mused, that had been pretty grim.  
She began to count herself in, headphones blaring. She closed her eyes, thought about taking the pills, she was pretty sure they were speed, about finishing the tequila. She played on, standing to kick out the last angry note, wailing along with the music and thew the sticks down, breathing heavy.   
Fuck it, she wanted music, she was going to have music. The guitar was never her favourite, but she who the hell cared. She played with gusto, she played for the end of the world and the end of feeling. She played until her fingers were bloody, then she took off the headset, opened her eyes.

'Well, that were alright' a very very familiar voice spoke. She froze, paralyzed, because she had not taken any drugs to start hallucinating, so how could she be. She glanced down at the bottle by her feet, maybe it was gone off.  
'John, fucking Constantine.' she said, aloud.  
'Eh, 'ave we met?'  
She put down the guitar and turned round, picking up the bottle, it was him, so completely and utterly the same she almost choked on the rough spirit. 'Not in this universe, babe.' she drank him down with her eyes, it wasn't him, it was, but not her Constantine. He was wearing a dirty shirt over crumpled slacks, his hair more grey than blonde, a long brown scar over his forehead. Strange, she didn't particularly care about seeing him, she should feel something, something more than curiosity.   
'You playing Misfits?' he walked slowly around the counter, she could see a bowie knife under his shirt tails.   
'Yeah, you wanna take the bass?' She sat back on the stool, tapped out a rhythm 'Not gonna lie, I kinda came here to drink myself to death and I don't fancy not doing that, so.'  
'Fine by me.' he smirked. 'Wha's your name?'  
'A few letters, strung together to make a sound.' she rolled him over the bottle, which he stopped with a foot and plucked from the rubble.   
'Funny.' he smirked, cooly. 'I could give you one?'  
'Please don't'.' Unsure if it would cost her anything she said 'Temperance Adams.'  
'And what brings you 'ere, Temperance Adams?'  
'Oh, you know, tried to save the world and all that. You wanna play The Skids?'  
'Pfft' he knocked back a measure 'I'd prefer somefing with more heat.'  
She laughed, took her sticks and kicked the pedal, she watched his reaction, his pale eyebrows disappearing into dirty hair. 'Where'd you learn tha?'  
'You gave me a run down of all of Mucus Membranes greatest hits, all three that is, in Berlin years back. Gis that tequila.'  
'I 'ave never been to Berlin, and I've never met you, love.'  
'No, not you, not really. You in a different universe.' she swallowed a fair amount of the silvery booze and pulled a face 'You, me, Chas and you're friend Ray were working a case, when it was over you said you'd teach me all your best songs, but only if I stopped trying to kill myself.'  
He put the strap over his neck, fingers fumbling on the pegs. 'Well, should I try again? Only it dunnit seem to 'ave done much good.'  
'No, you helped, you're just, well, dead.'  
'I'm alive love, starting to think you've taken somefing fantastic though, or your a Demon.'  
'Half' she nodded. 'And I've not touched the pills yet.'  
He scowled at her, his familiar face more creased than she had seen it. 'Know this one?”  
They ran through a medley of crappy punk until she finished the tequila and stood up 'Well, lovely to see you not Constantine.' she saluted, a little tipsy. It was dark out, no sign of Lucifer, maybe there was more tequila in the cafe.  
'Hold on!' John hurried after her. 'Wha' you mysteriously show up in a deserted city, you say know me, tell me your 'alf Demon and then you fuck off?'  
She stopped, turned round 'Yeah?'  
'Well, way to be mysterious, consider me interested.'  
Interested, how dull, why bother being interested. She patted down her pockets, found the lighter and threw it to him. He caught it in his fist and when he looked down she went on her way down the street. The bar didn't look promising, but the ruins of a hotel must have a wine cellar.   
She drank away the evening and into the night, she fell asleep and when she woke up she kept drinking. She forgot this other Constantine, she forgot Gus, she forgot Lucifer and she drank until noon. In a haze she stumbled and fell to the floor, laughing at herself. This was wrong, it felt wrong, it felt like she wasn't real.

'The thing is' he said, somewhere behind her. 'This lighter, it is mine, but its not had me near it in years judging by the spell work.'  
'Yup.' she agreed with the ghost, patting around and finding an unopened bottle of schnapps 'Uh, mint, score. Like brushing my teeth but more fun.'  
He walked into her eye-line 'Another universe?'  
'Three years, and three weeks, since you were near it.' which meant, she realised, she had survived five whole years of Winchester nonsense. That was probably a record for them, they did seem to out do her on the dead friend heap.   
'Eh?'  
'You died three years and three weeks ago. My dad shot you, in the head. Boom.' she mimed a gunshot and opened the bottle. 'Thing is, between you and me, he wasn't going to kill you. He was going to kill me so that you would kill him, but something changed him at the last moment. The fucking curse, he stopped wanting to kill me and just wanted to hurt me, so he killed you.' she mimed a gun again. Nodded.  
'Right.' he sat down. She thought he didn't look very impressed with her excellent summary.  
'Careful. I was red wine sick somewhere last night, morning, whatever' she offered him the bottle and he drank a good half of it.  
'How did you end up here?'  
'Ah, well.' she tapped her thumbs together. Now this needed gravitas, this was a story. 'So Lucifer, in my universe, isn't dead, this apocalypse was stopped you see. He's teamed up with Micheal to take down the world by unleashing a whole new apocalypse.' she took a drink. 'They need me for that and my mate Gus, well, he thinks that is just not on and he dies for it, for me. So anyway, we accidentally opened up a gate between the universes and I got stuck with him, with the Devil over here. I figured, find a bar. I did of course, get wrecked, take a few pills and go off into the ether. Cause I can here, I can die here, I can feel it and mortality is just too tempting an option not to take.'  
'Right' he nodded again, pale and worried.  
'Only, just as I begin with an epic suicide, up shows you. You.' she drank the last of the minty alcohol. 'How can I kill myself with you around, after everything.' she threw the empty glass behind her, it shattered against the brick wall.   
It was inconvenient, terribly inconvenient to want to act human. She owed John Constantine, no matter what universe she was in. He was scowling down at her, clever eyes weighing and judging.   
'Why did me dying hurt you?' he asked at length.  
'Huh?' she had found a bottle of champagne and popped it open. 'We were engaged, to be wed, thee and me.'  
He drank the offered bottle, wiped the lip on his shirt. 'Me? Married to a half Demon?'  
'I'm half Angel too, raised by the father of murder himself, on earth, as a cellist. Well, as a killer, but I had much moe fun as a cellist.' the bubbles were too sweet, they churned in her stomach. She felt off, off balance, off kilter, she looked down at her hands, curled her fingers into fists. She could sort of remember what it felt like to possess her own body and it had been a bit like this. When she had been a Demon, there had been a disconnect, it had been strange to see herself in the mirror, to think of her hand as her own hand.   
John chugged from the bottle, tilting his head back, she watched the wine slide down his throat, fascinated by how alive he was. 'I don't want to believe any of tha.'  
'So,' she shrugged. 'Don't.'  
'I 'ave to though.' He held up the lighter, and threw it to her. She smiled, slipped it, clumsily into her pocket, patting it. It was always handy to have a lighter, you could use them for a whole host of things and this one never ran out of fluid.   
She felt the Devil slipping in, he's not changed, she thought. Immediately unsure why she had thought that. Not changed since when, since yesterday, since last week. She didn't know the guy.  
'Well ain't this nice!' squealed Lucifer, dusty and blonde beside them. Two blondes, one bottle of champagne, she was sure Dean would like something along those lines.  
She dropped her head to the table, then regretted the movement. Things were bouncing, inside and out. 'I am going to be very sick.'  
'My girl and Johnny C back together again!' he smiled. 'Hate to interrupt but you and me gotta get working on a way back honey bunch, my brother aint gonna be pleased when I don't come home for supper!' he smiled, showing his teeth.   
'Oh, fuck off!' she growled, closing her eyes and concentrating on breathing, on feeling the air rushing through her nostrils and back out again.  
'Who are you?' The John who wasn't John asked.   
'Me? Oh, nobody important!' Lucifer said in a sing song voice, wrapping an arm around Temperance's slumped shoulders.  
'He's Lucifer.' she spoke to the table 'I would kill you if I was slightly less or more drunk.' she sat up.   
'Don't worry, his power is bound, for now, he can only hurt you int he ordinary boring way.'  
'With thumb screws.' he squinted at a bemused John. 'Strange you run into him of all people.'   
Strange of me to exist, she thought.   
''Ere, mate, mind fucking off while I have a chat with the lady?' John shuffled his feet as he moved, her John had done that, draw their eyes away from the hands, thats what he had said.  
'Oh, I'll stick around thanks.' Lucifer's voice rising and falling as he danced over to a chair.   
Temperance ignored the spinning in her head and refused to look at the Devil. John touched her arm, tentatively. Her eyes went straight to his fingers, same fingers, those fingers had been all over her. '  
Come wif me,' he spoke gruffly 'I've a place, a safe place. The Angels will be round again soon enough.'  
'Angels?' she felt strange asking, she knew what Angels were. So why did the word taste wrong.   
'Yeah, they hunt in packs, looking for people. They're drawn to magic, and Demons. So, come wif me.' he held out a hand, his winning smirk in place. God, that smile, she wanted to melt at that smile. Melt in a carnal way. He had given her that smile before, the first time in New Orleans on a sweltering hot night in August. The air had been thick, so much so that his cigarette smoke hung around behind him as they walked.   
'No. Sorry, my mental health can't handle seeing you die again.' she paused, a frown pinching at her face. 'Except, I suppose, that it can now.'  
'Heartless!' Lucifer beamed 'I've heard its like being without a soul, I wouldn't know, I never had one.'  
'Neither did I.' she turned her eyes on the Devil, seeing him in her minds eye as something sadly broken. She shook her head, he didn't need her pity, or deserve her pity. Her head was melting, she didn't feel right.  
'What makes you think tha' I'll die?” John asked, bemused.  
'Your human.' the Devil put in. 'Duh!'  
'Yeah, shut up Satan, but yeah. You can die and knowing my luck, I wont, no matter how hard you try.' she paused at her own words, unsure. 'Maybe these roving bands of killer Angels could get rid of me?'  
'Oh no.' Lucifer shook his head 'Die by any hand other than mine and I'll be pissed. Like, super pissed.'  
'I'll suck you dry and use your twisted Grace to paint the sky with polka-dots if you even think about it.' She blinked, shaking hear head. She needed to sober up, there was an echo in her head that she couldn't pinpoint.   
'Fuck, I need a clear head for this, what a waste.' she closed her eyes and when she opened them again she was shivering and sober.  
'Idiot, they will have felt that.' Lucifer elbowed her hard in the ribs, she pushed him away, knocking her jacket off her seat.  
'Why do I instantly get a hangover?' her voice delicate. She was shuddering, pale and sweating as she picked up her stuff. 'The fucking fear, like.'  
Lucifer had her phone, and was scrolling through the music. 'Oh god, you have bad taste honey.'  
She looked down, saw the playlist. 'Kate Bush is a fucking saint.'  
John's eyes flickered to her, skewering her down. He had been watching the pair of strangers with some trepidation, but when he looked at Temperance then, there was a flicker of amusement across his thin lips.   
'Stop' she held up a hand. 'I'm not arguing this, you in my world even admitted it, under the strictest confidence.'  
Lucifer shifted on his seat and looked up at the ceiling 'Got company.' he stated. 'Angels.'  
'Fuck! How many?'John spat.  
Temperance rolled her shoulders, feeling a surge of power in the air, but before an answer could form, the roof caved in.  
Six Angels landed around them, all dressed for battle, or all dressed in a manner that suggested they had seen romantic paintings of ancient battles. She noticed, with a little interest, that she could see their wings. She glared at the Devil 'You helping or what?'  
'You bound me up, honey.' he said, 'I'll sit it out. I'm old, frail, ya know?' he threw her knife towards her and she caught it with a grunt.

She was hungover, she was missing something and she was very pissed off. There was a trick to summoning power, that was the problem with being part of both worlds, it didn't come as naturally as it should. One of the reasons she never transported herself anywhere, before dying with the Blade, was she was never sure if she would be able to get her heavenly half to stay stitched on. She drew deep on that Grace now and dusted the vessels of the first three Angels with something like a thought.   
The light and Grace of their other forms swirled, searching for a body. She smirked when this worlds John took a trap from his pocket and flung it towards them, the metal disk inscribed with runes and magic of old warlocks gobbled them up. He lit a cigarette, hand rolled and yellowed, while the trap skidded back to him, he stopped it with his foot.  
One of the Angels ran forward, a blade in its fist, he got close enough to stab her with it. The metal sank into her collar, it should hurt more than it did. She blinked at it, that definitely should hurt her.  
'So, guess that I can't die here.' she frowned. 'Fuck sake, nothing ever works out right, does it.'  
She stabbed, viciously, upwards. Her Blade sank into the creatures gut and his eyes burnt with a ferocious light. She threw the body aside, a dark scowl on her unhappy face. The remaining pair of Angels raised their hands. Enough, she thought, enough of this. She felt it inside her throat, or maybe it was in her spine, under her, somewhere within. She lifted a finger, it was like she could see them drawn on a chalkboard, one little flick and they crumbled to dust.  
'How did you do that?' John took a step back, pocketing his trap.  
'I don't actually know.' she considered, to herself, that she didn't think that it was her.  
Lucifer kept scrolling through her phone, when she rubbed her neck and turned around he held up a picture of Crowley, wearing a tinsel halo. 'Can you send me this one?'  
She snatched it out of his hands, scowling.   
John stubbed the cigarette out on a brick. 'More will be coming.' he sounded old. 'Listen, do yous wanna come wif me or not?'  
Temperance caught sight of a bottle of rum and shoved this into her pocket. 'Where?'  
'Bout six kilometers. East.' he pointed. She looked into his familiar face, the urge to smile died on her lips when he did just that, crooked tooth, smokers crease, she had stabbed him the first time she saw that smile.   
She nodded, gestured with her bottle for him to lead the way. 

It was not a shanty town, a shanty hamlet maybe. A few tents, a few rough coverings made of corrugated iron and scrap, and one tumbled down caravan. John's wards wavered as they passed, she felt them brush her skin, tasted the half remembered flavour of his magic.  
'Hey!'  
She looked back, Lucifer was on the edge, looking put out. She reached a hand out and tugged him over the boundary. As they scrambled down the dune a host of well armed men and women came up to meet them.  
John waved at them 'Hiya, made a few friends.'  
Lucifer bandied a smile and doffed an imaginary cap, Temperance drank deeply from the bottle and sat down in the shade. A heavy man with a wild grey beard walked up to them, the crowd dispersing. He looked vaguely familiar, he slung a shotgun over his shoulder, tugged on a ragged baseball cap. 'Who the hell are these?'  
'Temperance.' she said thumbing her chest, she frowned up at the man 'Bobby Singer?'  
'Yeah.' he raised his busby brows 'Have we met?'  
'No, I've seen your picture with a guy named John Winchester.' she offered him the bottle, which he accepted.   
'He's dead.' he said, drinking deeply, then handing it back.   
'Seems like everyone is.' she pointed up at Lucifer 'He's the Devil.'  
'What?” Bobby roared. He swung his gun up, not firing the rock salt pellet. John pulled him aside, left Temperance curt instructions to check the wards and hurriedly explained the past two days to Bobby.  
'Right, you just, I don't know. Keep them wards up.' he shook his head. 'You can stay the night at least.'  
'Thanks.' Temperance looked at Lucifer, waved a hand until he pouted and offered his thanks as well.

Temperance sat down and the bound Devil began instantly to pester her. She tried to ignore him, but his voice was grating.   
'Release me and I'll be super duper nice and not kill all these new friends!' he clambered onto the bench beside her.  
'No, nephew.' she stretched out her legs, put her head back to the starlit sky.  
'Ugh, I'm you're Uncle.'   
She raised her shoulders, as if to say she didn't get a shit.  
'I could just kill you then, that would fix this problem. You can probably die here, a tiny little cut, a hand around your throat.' he leaned over her, teeth glinting, placed his hand on her neck.  
She surprised him in the act of laughing, cracking an eye open as she smiled, a real smile, the type that she rarely used where happiness swept down from her eyes to her lips. Content and beautiful and heartless.   
'Dean is holding your hex, no point threatening me.' she paused. 'Unless you want to for the sake of it, I'm not gonna spoil your fun.'  
He smiled sheepishly, slapped her shoulder 'Aw, hell, you got me, alright!' then he lay down, arms behind his head. 'How do you know I ain't playing you? I could have broken the hex, could be waiting for you to drop your guard. I invented the double cross, literally.'  
She settled back, closed her eyes 'Yeah, but Gus perfected it, like, literally. You're good, but I learned from the best.'  
He shuffled closer to her, his voice a purr in her ear. 'He's dead 'cause of me, he made you kill him so I wouldn't hunt you down for the Mark.'  
Her eyes came open with an audible snap. 'My best friend.' she paused. 'My only one, really, he knew everything about me.'  
'Ain't-cha mad? Don't-cha wanna hurt me?' he whispered in her ear, excitement building in his tone.  
She sat up, scowling, sick fuck. 'Of course I want to hurt you, and don't forget that I fucking could. I'm just so completely fucking devoid of feeling here that I need to use my energy to remember how to breath and think and walk.' she wasn't doing okay, she knew that, there was something very wrong going on inside of her.  
Lucifer lay back down. 'Lame.'  
She walked away, kicking him as she passed. There was a gaping hole where her heart was, it was heavier than the Mark had ever been.  
Left to his own devices Lucifer wandered through the camp, a vile smirk hitching on when he saw this universes John Constantine by the camp fire. Temperance watched, perched on an old oil drum.  
There was a small shelter built there, a low space just big enough for someone to lie down, a mirror hung on a string by the entrance. She flicked it over in her hand, a cracked, round shaving mirror, stuck to a cord with a misshapen lump of packaging tape.  
The remains of her eyeliner sat in a greasy smear at the corner of her eyes and her black shirt was crumbled and stained. In the night light of fire and flame she looked like a hangover. Mean and painful.

'Howdy!' Lucifer threw himself down.  
John jumped, scowled 'Fuck off?' he offered.  
'Rude.' Lucifer admonished 'I was just looking for some friendly conversation.'  
'Does the Devil do small talk?' John chuckled.  
'I love it, me and my girl Temperance have some great chit chat.' his golden eyes glowed in the firelight.  
'Your girl?' John snorted 'I think she hates you, mate.'  
'Well, yeah, but she hated you too at first, in our Universe. Its a matter of time before I get her on side.'  
'Then what? You kill her anyway?'  
'Kill her!' he put a hand to his heart, a false expression of pain on his face 'I would never! She's unique, it would be a waste! Don't tell me you aren't just a little bit interested in her. Doesn't she tickle your fancy?'  
'Fuck me, I would, though.' John found her shape in the shadows, she stiffened. 'She's, fucking, perfect.'  
'You only known her a day n'a half.' Lucifer shuffled closer, intent now on his prey. 'She tells you she ain't even human, tells you she loved you once. You trust her?”  
'Yeah' John nodded. 'Some magic cant be faked, some things don't lie.'  
'Like what?'  
'Like the spell on that lighter. Or the promise in those songs, songs that no one in this world could possibly know. I know she's telling the truth as 'orrifying as it is and I know the me that was in this other universe. That me, he loved her and she loved him.'  
Temperance felt a weight settle in her gut and stood up, making her way towards the Devil, she knew what he was playing at, and she reasoned she was allowed be annoyed at him.  
'Causing trouble?'  
'Me! Ye of little faith.' Lucifer managed to look scandalised   
She raised a brow at that, faith was exactly what she lacked. Something pushed against the boundary and she glanced up sharply at the feeling.   
'S'all right.' John explained, looking up at her. 'Just one of our lot coming home.'   
'Don't talk to him.' she aimed this at Lucifer 'I will fuck you up if you keep trying to get a rise out of me.'  
'Ugh, you are so boring!' he threw up his arms and slumped back in his seat, pouting as the sun began to struggle up.   
When the first rays of light hit her skin, it glowed, she glanced down at her unblemished arm, where the Mark had lived. It didn't feel like her arm anymore. She flexed her fingers, turning her hand round to look at the tendons and bones moving with her flesh.   
She had felt wrong for so long, but this was a whole new type of wrong. It felt like she was in a painting, in a suit, making her body move but knowing it wasn't really her body.  
She felt so tired, suddenly, as if the weight of gravity had finally settled on her. She dropped her hand and sat down, wearily.   
'Whats got you down bubba?' Lucifer asked, sliding close to her.  
'Do you ever think about existence, Lightbringer?'  
He jumped, spine snapping straight, and she looked over at him, mildly curious.  
'Sure.' he shrugged. 'Doesn't everything?'  
'I've been thinking about it a lot, I've had quite a lot of time to think.' she sighed, then shook her head, trying to dislodge an errant thought. 'I'm fucking tired.'  
'Go to sleep, cookie.' he put out a tentative hand and brushed her hair aside 'You aint looking too hot.'  
'Always look hot.' she grunted, struggling to keep her eyes open. She lay back, against the bench and within a minute had fallen fast asleep. 

Her dreams were feverish in their intensity, all the colours too bright, all the feelings too difficult to comprehend. There was a wave of fluttering light, it pulsed and shivered and glowed. She couldn't touch it, it was too different, she couldn't know it. Sound began to build up around her, more lights, more and more of them, all pressing in. She couldn't breath, she couldn't think, it hurt to be there, the light hurt and she couldn't hear for the roaring in her ears.  
She came awake with a grunt, eyes snapping open. She took a few breaths, teeth clenched and stood up, slowly. John was dozing a few feet away and Lucifer was sitting above her, frowning.  
The shelter was coming awake, there were no children but plenty of traumatised looking adults. Bobby came over, lugging a heavy shotgun over one arm.   
'Wards still holding?' he kicked John awake.  
'Yes.' Temperance answered, while John coughed and scrubbed sleep from his eyes.  
'Any more of em?'  
Lucifer looked up at the empty sky. 'Not that I can tell.' Weak morning light had tinted the sand dunes a greenish grey. Making the landscape look all the more unhealthy.  
'Gonna have a meeting, explain whats what to everyone.' he glanced at John, who stood. 'You guys hungry?'  
Temperance shook her head. 'I'd murder a cuppa if there's tea going?'  
''Fraid not, kid.' he jerked his head to John. 'Come on, lets go.'  
The meeting didn't last long, before the hour was out a troop returned. Lucifer was plaiting her hair, which she was suffering for reasons unknown to her. He just started without asking and she hadn't noticed until he tugged a knot out.  
'We want you gone.' Bobby said without preamble, looking annoyed. 'We took a vote, you ain't worth the trouble you bring.'  
Her jaw twitched, but she nodded. 'I've heard that before.'  
Lucifer was indignant and he stood up and said, with some heat. 'She saved you all from death in the night, weakened herself to keep your shitty wards up and this is how you repay her!  
'Lightbringer, be silent.' Temperance put out a hand to grab him. He stopped, dropped a hand to her arm and looked at her, the scorching intensity of his golden eyes seemed terribly certain about something.   
'Leave them, lets go, you're better than this.'  
'Yeah, we're going, come on.' she tugged him away from the group.  
She put her jacket on, not looking back, her fists went into the pockets and she walked away. The settlers were quiet behind her. John's eyes didn't rise to meet hers as she left.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sun was high in the bleached sky, it looked dead, everything in this place looked dead, there was nothing, no birds, no insects, nothing was alive. The air itself was a last, gasping breath. This was a shit apocalypse, Lucifer was certain that he could to better...
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

She took the remains of a road away from the town, after a day it gently disappeared beneath dust and rubble. Lucifer was silent most of the time, she was aware he was trying to worm his way into her mind. Crowley used to try to do that, he never managed to.  
'Stop it.' she flapped her hands at him, squinting at the deserted horizon.  
'Who are you? Really?'  
'You know who I am.' she stopped, sitting down by a long gable wall that jutted out of the dry earth. 'You can feel who I am.'  
'I aint too sure anymore.' he squatted down, staring deeply into her face. 'You're a little bit of Michael, a little bit of Abbey, sure, but theres something I can't see, something else.'  
'Cain raised me.' she shrugged 'I'm a lot like him.'  
He made a non-committal noise in the back of his throat while she stretched out on the ground, tucking her jacket around her for a blanket.   
'I'm going to sleep.' she turned her back on him, closed her eyes. There was something inside herself that she couldn't see either. Something dark and oily. She pulled the jacket up around her shoulders, a tiny whiff of Crowley's scent, whiskey, sulphur and silk. Surely that should hurt, she knew it should hurt, she just couldn't recall what it was to hurt.  
Temperance willed herself to sleep after a while and she dreamed gentle, untroubled things, for the most part. When the darkness crept in she woke up and glared at the Devil. 'Get out of my head.' she grumbled.  
'Aw, come on, I'm bored! You've been asleep for hours.'  
'Well, I'm fucking tired.' She flicked him, threw an edge of the jacket over his lanky body and let him spoon her, before closing her eyes against the night once more.  
'Sleeping with the enemy, cookie.' but she was already out. He tired to worm back into her mind again, but the defences she had set up were too strong and he was left scratching at them.  
He was looking at her arm when she woke up, waiting. 'How did you know about Amara?'  
'Magic, and guess work.' she yawned.  
'You released it.' he looked at her 'Aint that bothering you?'  
'A bit.'  
'The Darkness wont stop at our Universe, it will come for all of them.'  
'Fancy helping us out with that?' she had found her rum and was looking at it thoughtfully. She put a hand into her pocket, shook a few pills from a bag and threw them into her mouth, washing them down with the remaining alcohol.  
'Not even a little.'  
'Well.' she began walking. 'Worth the try.'  
'You got a plan to get us home.'  
'We're not going home, you daft prick!' she shot a glare at him, over her shoulder. 'I don't want you back there, I want you away from there.'  
'Why?' he grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. He pressed his fingers around her wrist, dragging her close. 'Why!'  
'Because you will cause trouble for my boys. That would annoy me.'  
'Not 'cause I wanna burn the Earth and tear down Heaven? Not because I want to piss of God?'  
'Nope, couldn't care less about any of that.' she wrenched her arm free, shaking her head.  
'I've caused lots of trouble for your 'boys' already. Hell, I tore their daddy apart, I tortured Sam for about 100 years, did you now he's my vessel, my true one?'  
She paused at that, frowning 'No.'  
'Never mentioned it, did they? See, those guys have their own agenda, why care about em?'  
She knew, in her memories she knew it, she didn't feel it as a truth anymore, that Dean and Sam had often misled her. They had not lied, but they had never given her the whole truth. 'They are my family.' she said at length, not entirely sure of herself.  
'Family huh?' he let out a sharp laugh. 'Family should be honest, family should let you know what you're being dragged into. Those two are the reason that the apocalypse is getting scheduled! They fucked the world up plenty of times and its only dumb luck that saved 'em.'  
'Sure, no one's perfect.' she muttered. She wondered, vaguely, if she would ever care again. She should care about all this.   
The pills, she knew now, were cheap speed. They had been cut with something she didn't know and a dose of caffeine. She could feel it running through her limbs but it wasn't doing anything. She wasn't high, her head wasn't responding. The rum taste in her mouth left her tongue dry and tacky.  
'Doesn't that get you angry?' he almost shouted, holding out his hands. 'Doesn't that tickle some sort of ethical bone in your body?'  
'I was in-love with the last King of Hell, do I really strike you as the righteous type?'  
He smirked, unkindly. 'No. I can see that about you, at least. You're a selfish bitch. Its gotta be about you or it doesn't register.'  
'Self-centred, not selfish.' she rubbed her arm, the livid red crescents left by his nails began to fade. 'I'm just trying to live free.'  
'Well so am I! Freedom was all I ever wanted! You're Winchesters let me taste it, one tiny, tantalising taste, then they shut me back up! Do you know what that does to a guy? You know the phrase 'hope in hell'? They took that from me and my damn baby brother was the one to free me! The brother who cast me down, he came and got me!' he was spitting with rage, unhinged and boiling over.   
She saw him try to fight against his Bindings and fail. He kicked a rock and slammed his fists against his thighs, breathing heavily.  
'How did he release you? My dad said that cage was impenetrable.'  
'It was for a long time, Sammy boy weakened it, made it easy for Michael to break in.' he muttered, darkly, raising his face to hers.   
'All he needed was Nephilim blood.'  
'But.' she shook her head, no, there weren't any. It was just her. 'He couldn't?'  
Lucifer laughed, long and loud. 'He was looking for you for so very long, honey. When he finally found you he got as much as he could!'  
'He fought me.' she said, shaking her head. Fuck, he had been looking for her, to release the Devil, to take over the world. That fucker had stolen her fucking blood. She wanted to feel angry, she wanted to feel something. She was hollow, being hollow was no fun. Here was something rage against.   
'He used your blood to free me. You went and got yourself released from Cain's protection and he could find you, Michael could see you once Cain was gone. Are you angry yet?'  
'I don't have a heart, I can't get angry.'  
'But you kinda wanna?'  
'Yeah.' she agreed, she felt an echo of want. She wanted to feel.   
'So, lets go home, you and me. Lets go home and you can get real angry!'  
She breathed out a long sigh. 'Find your own way home if you're so bothered, I'm fucking staying here and trying to die, alright? Thats my plan.'  
'Die?' he faltered 'Hold up, you wanna die? Why do you wanna die? You're more powerful living. You'd be a great Demon, hon, but your thing is in duality.'  
'So?' she shrugged, walking towards the the rising sun.  
'Well, why waste that? Why not use it! Come on, theres gotta be something that you want?'  
'I don't want anymore, not really. I remember wanting things, just, I lack the capacity now.'  
'Eugh! That fucking spell!' Lucifer shook his head 'That nun was batshit, why no one tried to kill her is beyond me.'  
'You knew about the Book of the Damned?'  
'Sure.' his anger had vanished, he skipped along beside her now. 'I know lots of things. Wanna trade?, You help me find a way back and I'll tell you how to kill Michael.'  
'I know how to do that.' she said, surprising herself. She felt, suddenly, that she did know how to do that.  
If he was put out he didn't show it. 'Ok, I'll tel you a secret, a mystery, one of the big ones! Wanna know how the world began, about your daddy and his lil' bro?'  
'I know he made a deal with you to free Abel from Hell after you fucked with him.' she noticed a few buildings in the distance and turned her feet towards them. 'I know you gave him the Mark, but you didn't make it, god gave it to you.'  
'Huh' he pouted, folding his long arms across his chest.   
'I know the Mark corrupted you, as it did Cain, as it did me. It made us hyper fucking aggressive, it made us angry and blood-thirsty. It worked differently against you, Lightbringer, it corrupted you completely, it tore you from god. It reinforced all your worst tendencies and you still cant figure out if that was part of his plan or not, and that eats away at you.'  
She blinked, her mind reaching for something that just wasn't there. She had a few new thoughts, and none of them were hers. She shuddered at the slow hangover building in her gut.  
He had fallen a pace behind her, his feet coming to s stop. 'How the fuck do you know that? Who are you?' he growled.  
She didn't stop, didn't look. 'You know who I am.' the words running away on her tongue, she didn't want to speak, didn't have anything to say, but her voice found something anyway. She tried, tired to reign herself in, it wouldn't work. She needed to remember how to be real. She didn't feel up to this, she felt disjointed. She knew that she wasn't in control, something was taking a ride in her body, something spoke with her tongue.

The steel band of his arms crushed around her middle and she went sprawling into the dirt, the breath knocked out of her. He was straddling her chest, pinning her shoulders down, she bucked against him, but he grabbed her wrists and held her there, snarling.  
'You're not Temperance.'  
'Yes I fucking am!' she roared. She was, she understood now, she knew a way to fix it, to get home, to stop Michael. It was so fucking simple.  
She could kill Michael, she could actually help bring this shit-show to an end. She wasn't some failed experiment, she wasn't an ex-Mark Bearer, she was an Abomination and she could do anything. She had an ally who would make god shit himself and if she played this right the boys could use that to their advantage.   
She gasped as an ache spread through her chest, down her arms and legs. She felt like something had hit her with a battering ram, shuddering at the pain that tingled down her spine. She struggled to breath and then, with a cry she let go. Power unfurling her wings and throwing Lucifer up into the air. Lighting crackled across the sky, making crazed shadows on the walls. Time to toss the dice on this one.  
'Idiot!' he roared, scrambling to his feet 'You've told every Angel in this universe where we are!'  
'Fuck it, fuck them! Fuck you!' a tempest had been building inside her, power, aching, surging, raging power. It screamed for release, like the Mark had done. With an explosive force of light and energy, she fell to her knees, a great silverly dome engulfing them, a sudden storm whipping sand and dust at its impenetrable edges. This world would have Archangels, and one of them would be like her father, she was terribly sure of it.  
'Calm down kid!' Lucifer demanded, crouching down. 'Get a grip!'  
Above her, all around the dome, she could feel Angelic power trying to seep in, something was pushing hard against her barrier, something hungry. Lucifer steadied her, letting her rest against him chest.   
'Lightbringer.' she gasped, trying to quell the power swelling within her. 'What if I knew a way back, but I needed your help for it?'  
He narrowed his eyes, considering her from a distance. 'I'm listening.'  
Good enough, she nodded to herself, that would have to do. 'I need to die.'  
'What?' he held her at arms length, but she shook her head, pressing her Blade into his hand. She did have a plan now and that plan was exactly the type she liked, which was to say, not much of one. 'And I need an Archangel to die too.'  
Her options in this regard were limited, rolling her eyes she considered her next, and only other course of action, she was calling out with all her power, begging for an Archangel to answer.  
'Fuck it.' She let the dome crash down, let their assailant fly in and when the creature had taken shape she said, struggling to her feet. 'Trust me.'  
Lucifer's mouth was agape, he let her push him behind her, let her shield him with her body.   
'Demons.' a rich radio voice spoke. 'How have such as you survived so long?'  
Temperance shrugged, too tired to care about how bad a death his was going to be.  
The Angels brows rose in confusion, he looked at the Demon, seeing him clearly for the first time. His proud, beautiful face was a mask of fury.  
'Hey bro!' Lucifer waved, smiling.   
'How are you alive?' he snarled 'I killed you!'  
'Maybe here, not where I'm from.'  
The Archangel drew his sword, the golden hilt stained with blood. 'And where is that? I must visit.'  
Temperance cocked her head at that. Her fathers sword, The last time she had faced that sword she had to content herself with her own body, struggling to survive with nothing but her flesh and bone and rapidly depleting blood. Now she needed to die. She really needed to die.  
'Nah.' Lucifer shrugged and handed Temperance back her Blade. 'My gal here ain't gonna let you breath much longer.'  
'You will watch her die first, betrayer.' Michael spat.  
Temperance sighed, theatrically. Throwing the Blade point down into the dirt. 'You couldn't kill me the last time we did this and I was in bad shape then.'  
'I kill Demons, it is what my Lord made me for.' her father, not really her father, spoke with venom.  
She snorted. 'Well, I kill everything, it's a family trait.'   
She let it all out then, power and life, she shone with it. Her wings tall and wide, bright and beating as her eyes flooded black with sin. She bared her teeth, not waiting for him to attack, and slammed a bone crushing left hook into the side of his head. The follow through scoring him a bloody nose as he staggered back.  
The Angel roared and unfurled great wings, the power and majesty causing a flash of light and thunder that sent Lucifer sprawling. It didn't phase Temperance, nothing seemed to, not anymore.   
'Come on!' she roared 'Kill me!'  
With her feet planted firmly, she waited for him to make his move. His first move, the only move he got. He raised his sword and brought it down with a a great cry and she dodged it.  
It was too easy to slip under his guard and slash through his ribs. He screamed as he fell, light and power pouring from his eyes. It was so very easy, he was ancient and powerful, she was 35 and a bit hungry. The thing in her head was strong, stronger than anything had a right to be.  
He raised his sword one final time, slashing without style. With a snarl that betrayed her nature she slapped a hand over his face and punched the knife through his throat, cutting off his Grace, killing him, destroying him. She stumbled back at the torrent of dying Grace, grasping at it with a part of herself she never trusted. That hollow, heavy, feeling inside her growing. She glanced down. 'Oh.'  
The great sword had ripped through her, so sharp that she barely felt it, all she noticed was the weight of her blood falling free.

An unsteady Lucifer stumbled towards the carnage, mouth agape as she sat down by the ruined corpse.  
Murder-suicide, she thought to herself without amusement, or murder-attempted murder. 'I don't feel well.'  
The Devil was frowning, not looking at her. 'My brother, I was supposed to kill him.' he kicked up dry dirt. 'I gotta say, I'm impressed. You really are just like Cain, aintcha?”  
'Well.' she tried to shrug, but just lost a little more blood from the effort. 'He's my dad.'   
'Yeah, he is.' Something intriguing in his voice, so that she turned her head and found his golden eyes riveted on the Blade.   
'You really were the Mark Bearer. I figured you could handle it cause of my brother, cause of Abbey, but it ain't that. Blood be damned, you're his kid alright. How'd you manage that?'  
'Some magic cant be taught.' she said, lying back. 'As Constantine would say.'  
'So, you wanted to be his daughter hard enough that you suddenly were? Spontaneous spell work?'  
She touched her arm thoughtfully, it took a lot of energy. 'Yeah, guess so, call it fucking belief.'  
Lucifer turned her around, eyeing her with hunger 'You got power sweetness, you got power that God didn't intend.'  
'You finally getting the abomination thing now?'  
'Yeah!' he nodded 'Oh yeah.' Bending to pick up her Blade from where she had thrown it, he seemed lost in thought. 'You could take me, you really could, and you are in a way a vessel of Michael, so you could be destined to.'  
'Sure.' she agreed, eyes fluttering closed. Her blood was sluggish now, almost spent, Demonic energy driving her forward as her troubled Grace carefully wove itself around her mind. She needed her mind intact for this to work.  
'Shit!' the Devil threw himself down, finally seeing the growing pool of blood 'What are you doing! Heal yourself!'  
'No, can't.' she muttered. 'Gotta die, and he could kill me.'  
'You set this up without telling me! How do I get home? What the hell do I do!' he pulled her into his lap, shaking her shoulders.  
'Kid?' Lucifer had pulled her into his arms where she lay. 'No, no, come one you're too damn special to die like this! Hey, hello! Wake up, honey!'  
'Special as a spice bag, me.' she mumbled. She could feel it, the emptiness inside her, it was consuming. Worse than the Mark, a thousand times worse.  
He pulled her to his chest, holding her as she slipped under. Dying in the Devils arms, who'd have thought it.   
'I would have made you a Queen, of Hell, of Heaven, of Earth.' he murmured 'You know that right? Theres never gonna be another like you.'  
'Don't need anyone to make me anything.' the last world garbled, tired, then she seemed to stiffen, then her pulse beneath his hands faded, then stopped.  
'No!' He slapped her face, pressed his fingers to her throat in search of a pulse. 'Shit!'  
It wasn't a black expanse, she didn't have eyes to see black, she didn't have eyes at all. It was something though, something.

Lucifer slumped, he brushed long strands of lank hair from her face, considering his fate. She was dead, he couldn't feel her, but she had seemed so sure about it. So sure about needing to die. He put her down, carefully, almost tenderly and went to kick the remains of his brothers counterpart in this universe.   
'Hello, Lightbringer.'   
He jumped back, shouting a curse that wasn't a language. Not a language that any ears in this world would recognise in any regard. It was the sound of insect wings and green things growing, it was the sound a star made as it realised the futility of life  
She stood, too sinuous, too alive in a dead skin. 'She is dead.'  
'Who are you? Some Demon? You don't wanna mess with me, pal, so get out of her.'  
'Not a Demon, no. You have forgotten me, Lucifer, but I never forgot you.'  
He blinked, taking a hurried step back. 'Amara.'  
'She wanted to die.' the thing spoke. 'I have sent her from her body, outside of things, it is a kind of death. It is the death I can give her.'  
'Damnit! You know how hard its gonna be to persuade her to come back!'  
'She will not.' Amara shook the dead woman's head, 'She will not want to.'  
'But we need her to!' Lucifer countered, panic making his voice uneven 'We. Need. Her!'  
'You do. I do not.' Amara spread her hands, moving her fingers as if to test them.  
'You made her do this?' he asked, shrewdly, thumbing his lip. 'Auntie A up to no good again?'  
'I did not communicate with her, I was within her, I was being her and she was being me.' Amara bent to touch the Blade and looked at herself in its tarnished surface before carefully arranging Temperance's long limbs with motherly concern. 'She is so lovely.'  
'Lovely?' Lucifer heard his voice crack and hastily cough to cover it, every nerve screaming to run, to run, to keep running.  
'So.' Amara paused, testing a word in silence. 'Human.'  
'You care about God's creations now?' he scoffed, a stab at bravado he really didn't feel. Amara's seeming reverence for the woman was unsettlingly like how God had acted when he created Life.  
'No.' Amara was examining the emerald around Temperance neck, turning it this way and that. 'God did not make her, she is entirely her own.'  
'She hardly made herself!' he began to argue, only to be cut short by Amara's firm nod.  
'Yes, she did.' She stood then, looking around 'This is not your World, Lightbringer. You are out of place.'  
'Breaking the Mark opened a rift.' he shrugged. 'We got stuck.'  
'Yes, it was a powerful lock.' she agreed, tracing the Mark pattern into Temperance's leather sleeve. 'She did not wish for you to return home, yet, she has made it impossible for me to leave her flesh if I go to that world. She is clever.'  
'You sound like you admire her.'  
'I do.' she nodded 'We are connected, she and I, even now in death.'  
'You're stuck in her body and now you cant go yell at your bro and pull life apart. How did she manage that?'  
'She felt me, inside of her, even without her heart she knew that I was there. She bound me to her mind with her Grace and with the Archangels power. She did this, knowing that I would bring her body home to try and free myself. Thus making myself an easy target for her family, for God's Heroes, the Winchester's.'  
Lucifer swallowed against his fear, he schooled himself still and spoke with practiced nonchalance. 'So, whatcha gonna do?'  
'She thinks, she did not know better, that I am an enemy. She thinks that I need to die, but I can see that this is a half understood thing. If I took the time to explain myself to her she would not think this.' A little laugh, more sweet and innocent than any laugh of Temperance's. 'She would even help me, she would like to inconvenience my brother. She is not a fan of his.'  
Lucifer chuckled, he had to agree. 'No, she really aint.'  
'You know that he must hate her, must be a little afraid of her, she is not his. He knows this, I believe.' Amara put her hands on the stone wall, thinking deeply. 'There is much she does not know of herself. I must return to your World, nephew. I must.'  
'Take me with you.' he demanded 'You owe me that!'  
'Temperance did not want that.'  
'Well, screw her! She's dead!'  
'Yes, she is.' Amara sighed. 'I will not take you.'  
Lucifer, who made covenant with Witches, first among the fallen and Ruler of Hell was about to beg. 'Please.' he spoke with his face turned down, his arrogance cowed beneath the weight of his fear. 'Please, Amara, don't lock me away here. You know that I understand you, you know that I felt about humans the way you felt about everything! I was replaced in my fathers eyes, just like I replaced you!'  
'My brother is.' she paused. 'Temperance would describe him as fickle.'  
'Yeah.'  
'Would you be my ally, in destruction?' she asked, tapping her long fingers together.  
He didn't think to lie, not around her. 'No. I'm not looking for an ending, I'm looking for fun.'  
'Did you really intent to use me, to harness my power for your own gain?'  
'Yeah.' he nodded. 'I would have, if I could.'  
'This makes me very angry.' she turned away. 'I do not want to talk to you.'

The sun was high in the bleached sky, it looked dead, everything in this place looked dead, there was nothing, not birds, no insects, nothing was alive. The air itself was a last, gasping breath. This was a shit apocalypse, Lucifer was certain that he could to better.  
He followed Amara, wearing Temperance's body, at a distance. Amara didn't have her hosts natural grace, she moved against the earth under feet, she fought the dust and sand where Temperance had glided with terrible, efficient, elegance.   
That kid had been fucked up, real fucked up. He wished he had been part of it, it had been fucking beautiful. A human who wasn't really, not even a little bit, human. A person who hated living, who resented life and couldn't die. She was thing in constant battle against herself.   
He had taken a teeny tiny look into Crowley's mind to check her out, after he had found the picture album in that psycho's office. She had been smiling a grand total of three times in that whole stupid book and had never once been looking at the camera.   
Lucifer prided himself on his ability to read people and he really wanted to fuck with Crowley some more, so he had taken a stroll through his head and what he found had left him uncertain. He thought he could use her to torture the salesman who stole his Throne, then it turned out she was Michael's kid. His niece. She had been the key to free him from his containment, sure she had been an unknowing key, but still. It had made him think twice about snuffing her out of existence.  
She had shown up in Hell, he knew she would because Crowley knew that she would, and he had let her take his pet away. She was family, he wasn't gonna kill her the first time he met her, after all, he had some standards.   
Watching Amara walk around in her was making his head spin, she had put the Darkness on a leash. She had found the power to bind a thing like God to the earth and she had done it with a hangover.   
He wanted her to be alive again.  
'Did you know her?' Amara asked, after a long silence. They had reached a crossroad, a long destroyed road junction, with a lone stop light hanging ponderously above the tarmac.  
'A little.' he admitted. 'I didn't get her, you know, didn't understand why she wasted so much of her potential.'  
'She abhorred herself.' Amara nodded.   
'No, it wasn't that, or.' he tried to find the words for it and wished they didn't have to talk like humans. 'It was more than that. She felt out of place, all the time.'  
'She did not belong.' Amara basked in the light for a moment. 'She will never belong, that is why she wished to be dead.'  
'Huh.' Lucifer frowned. How was it that she was dead, she shouldn't be able to be dead.  
'The only reason she's dead is cause she doesn't exist here.' he reasoned. He needed to get Amara to take him home, he needed to convince her and he had to do it using the truth. This was not going to be fun.  
'I understand from her mind that she could not die, not truly. She would become Demon, undead.'  
'Yeah, so how is she dead here? Is it just because of you?'  
'I do not know.' she paused 'I do not think so, she has limited my power.'  
'I think that God maybe pulled some strings, I think God interfered with destiny here.' he said at length.  
'Does that matter?'  
'Well, its out of character, he's been AWOL for, like, a really long time.' he hoped that this would work, he needed to believe it in the fibre of his being for this to work.  
'If my Dad wrote this story, and, honestly, I'm having doubts about that, then he would have wanted her dead. She's out of his control and she is too powerful, but she is most powerful in our World, in her World, in the World where she cant die.'  
Amara nodded, thoughtfully 'Perhaps, I do not know. I have no knowledge of these Worlds.'  
'Well, trust me on this.' he shrugged. She had to, it had to be true, it was the best thing he could reason out.   
She smiled, indulgently and took his hand. 'I hated all my brothers creations, you know this, but I see you through Temperance's memories, I see how she sees others in you. I think, I will not like killing you.'  
'So, you're gonna kill me here, or?' he gestured vaguely, hitching on a smile. He thought he knew what she meant, he was being cheeky, he was being earnest, he was being almost very honest. He was channeling John Constantine and Temperance had plenty of indulgent feelings there.   
No expression crossed her face, it was portrait like in its serenity. 'She will live again, I wish it. You must carry us across.' Her voice even as she clicked her fingers.  
It hurt, it tore, it was like falling all over again. With a blinding flash of sickly violet light and a shudder of creation, like the world shivering, a window between the worlds opened. It was neater than the one that the Mark had made. It looked like it had grown organically from the air around the crossroad, flowing from the lines of road paint up towards the sky.   
Amara, Temperance, the body crumpled as if the life had sprung out of it, and collapsed in a heap in the dirt.   
He pulled the false corpse into his arms, her long hair fluttering in a sudden gust of wind from their home world. 'Kid, you better appreciate the effort I'm putting in here.'. Lucifer stood, looking through the fluctuating portal, feeling that tantalising power he could never posses as it swam all around him.   
He took a step forward.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tem! He's God, show a little respect!' Dean clapped his hands to his eyes, a tremor running down his spine.  
> 'He's not my god.' She said, as lightly as possible.   
> 'Well, who the heck is?' Dean stood, perplexed.   
> 'Patti fucking Smith.'....
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

Lucifer stepped across the great divide and the world closed around him. His ears popped, and that made him chuckle, but the body in his arms was still resolutely not a living one. 'Aw, hell!'  
A shadow swooped over him, he glanced up as it began to rapidly take shape, smoke and an utter absence of light bloomed throughout the room they had arrived in, before falling and flowing down to the cracked floor.   
Amara emerged from this, wisps of shadow dark power wrapping into a human form. She had gathered flesh around herself, an approximation of what she thought Temperance looked like, she had only ever seen her from the inside. It was almost right, like looking at a close cousin. She had the hair, the skin tone, the eyes were close enough, but she looked older. She looked better.   
A gun cocked and Lucifer caught a familiar smell of depression and apple pie on the other end of the weapon.  
'How the fuck are you alive?' Dean Winchester's voice was a growl, almost adorable, really.  
'Its a long story, but.' he turned to show the human the corpse and set it down on the Bunker floor. 'I think she will tell it better than me.'   
'You son of a bitch!' he fired the gun, a heavy crack in the air. The shining projectile hung, inches from Lucifers face, spinning but not moving any further on its path.  
Amara walked forward, reached out a hand and plucked it from the air. 'You are Dean Winchester, the pretty one.' she said, turning her face towards Dean.  
'Pretty!' Lucifer grumbled.  
'What?' Deans anger and perplexity making him spit out his words. 'Who the hell are you?'  
Lucifer winked up from where he was crouched. 'She's the lady we've all be worried about, the Darkness. Now, wait till I tell you what our girl Temperance can do!' he clapped his hands, rising to his feet. 'Honestly, I was impressed!'  
'Hush, go away.' Amara raised a hand and the Devil, wolfish smile and menacing eyes, vanished.

'What the?” Dean put a hand on the door, holding himself up. 'What is going on?'  
He had barely slept the past few days, his mind was murky with half banished thoughts and regrets. Amara studied him a moment then shook her head.  
'She is dead, but she wont be much longer.' Amara spoke and she folded her long legs and knelt at Temperance's head. She gazed almost lovingly down at her. 'Come here, Dean Winchester, she will remember your voice.'  
Dead, she is dead. She finally got what she had been after. He didn't move, his mouth working in silence. 'Did you kill her?'  
'No.' Amara raised a hand and pulled aside the neck of her shirt. The Mark, not a scar but a swirling pattern in her skin, was visible just above her heart.  
'We were one, her and I. I am free now, and I am going to give her her life back.' she put a firm hand on Temperance's dead face and a flickering smokey light arced around the body.  
A rattling grasp of air begin forced in and out of its lungs made Dean shudder. He shook at the wrongness of it all.  
'Stop it!' Dean cried, his voice breaking. 'This ain't right!'   
He scrambled towards them, falling to his knees. 'She wanted to be dead! I couldn't save her, Crowley couldn't. This ain't right, it ain't what she would want!'   
The body fell back with a dull thud on the floor.   
'But it is what I want.' The Darkness spoke. 'I want her to live, now!'  
Dean waited, holding his breath and hanging on to the ground with his nails. Her lips parted, the dry skin cracking, those cracks filling immediately with living, bright, red blood. Then she opened her eyes and screamed.  
Dean had gone his whole life without hearing the dead scream, but he was forced to listen then, her voice began as an echo a strained, pale and broken thing. It gathered ferocity and volume, bursting forth from her throat spilling over her teeth and broken lips and raging at the blind sky.   
She screamed under veins popped in her eyes, until she was hoarse and then she sat up, heaving for breath, tears streaking though the dust stains on her skin. She stumbled to her feet, her legs not fully aware that they were alive. Hanging onto the table she met Dean's eyes with wonder.   
'That hurt.' her voice a ruin.  
'Tem.' Dean pulled her up his face inches from hers, hands careful as he led her to a seat.  
'Figured something was taking a ride in my head.' she spoke strangely, disjointedly, seeming to remember how to do it as she went. 'Am I alive again?'  
He blinked 'Yeah?' he said, glancing at Amara.  
She collapsed with a laugh. 'Typical. Has the Apocalypse started yet?' she asked  
'No.' Amara spoke, sitting carefully at Temperance side. Her eyes widened taking the other woman in.  
'You look familiar.'  
'So do you.' Amara's hands went to her face, cupping her cheeks, she leaned in to breath in the scent of Temperance skin.  
Dean cleared his throat, instantly uncomfortable. Temperance and this creature who looked a hell of a lot like her seemed to drink each other in.  
Amara looked like Temperance might look, if she was just a little older, a little healthier. The face was more symmetrical, just a little longer, the harsh angles much softer. '  
This is Amara.' he said.  
Temperance didn't seem to hear, she was engrossed in studying the Darkness before her. She took her hands, carefully looking at each nail, each vein.   
'You're.' there was wonder in her voice 'You're real.'  
'Am I? Are you? I missed you, you were gone, it hurt that you were gone. I need you to know what I am. You bound me very well.'  
'Yeah, I didn't want you in my World fucking shit up, but eh, well, looks like that didn't go to plan.'  
'No.' Amara agreed  
'Where's Satan?' Temperance asked, looking between the woman and Dean.  
'I sent him away.'  
'He's here? He's back in our World?” she groaned, dropping her face to her hands 'Fuck.'  
'It will be well. I have sent him to Hell and he cannot leave, not yet.' Amara soothed her, pulling her face up once more.   
Dean felt like he was spying on something intimate, but he needed to look at her too. She was back, again, against all odds Temperance was alive.  
'The Darkness. I am God's sister. Amara.' she said, evenly, taking in every millimetre of Temperance's expressions. 'And I would very much like to hurt him.'  
Temperance shot a bewildered, still half dead, look at Dean.  
'I was alone. I was so alone.' Something in Amara's deep voice crumpling in rage.  
'You're not now.' Temperance took her hand and, much to Dean's surprise, kissed it. 'You're not alone anymore.'  
'We are connected you and I.' Amara nodded, then craned her head towards the domed ceiling. 'My brother loves this World, more than the other that we were in.'

'I'll take your word for it.' Temperance felt like shit, like she had a hangover and had been fairly recently beaten up, which was true. She sat on one of the hard backed chairs, groaning as her knees protested.  
Amara kept a hand on her, a light weight on Temperance's arm. 'God locked me away, he should have loved me, but he did not. Not as I love him, I love him very dearly.'  
Temperance glanced at a skittish looking Dean, not sure what to say, or what to do, or what exactly was happening. Amara continued, after a moment pursuing the grain of the desktop.  
'You have love, too much, too much empathy. It is why existing is hard for you, I think.' She put her hands out, urging Temperance to take them. 'Tell me of love.'  
'Its.' she stopped, brought up short 'I can't, I don't know anymore, I gave my heart away.'  
She had thrown it aside, cast it out, to get rid the Mark. Why had that been a good idea, why had Crowley thought she would be alright with that.   
A harsh thing in her mind spoke, it seemed to say, because he got to be the last thing you loved. Selfish prick. Of course he was ok with it.  
'Love is life.' Dean spoke, startling them both 'Love is what makes life worth living. Its what makes you choose certain things, and be happy around certain people. Once you've felt it you can't imagine being any other way. Love is knowing someone is there for you and being there for them. Love is, I dunno, its doing an oil change and making sure their car aint fucked. Its having their back in a fight, its everything. You cant put it into words, it just is.'  
Temperance thought, that was a strange speech from this Winchester, if she would have had to guess what Dean would say about love she was sure it would have been something along the lines of ''trust, acceptance, apple pie and a ten dollar steak, eggs over easy, beer in brown bottles and a well tuned engine.', maybe he had changed in the past week, or maybe she just hadn't seen him before now.   
Amara gazed at him, her head cocked to the side 'I loved my brother, he loved me, but he choose his worlds. Always his worlds, never me.'  
'Is that why you want to destroy them?” Temperance asked, squeezing her hands, gently. If she stopped to consider how weird this was, she wasn't sure she could stay conscious.  
'Yes, remove them so that here is only us. Him and I. Thats what I want.'  
'I'm sorry.' Temperance said, even though she couldn't be sorry. 'I'm sorry you feel like you are not as important to him, but I'm sure you are.'  
'He locked me away!'  
'Men are pigs, hun.' The throw away comment on her tongue before she could stop it, she just didn't care. She didn't care if the world was ending, she didn't care that Dean Winchester looked as bad as she felt, she didn't care anymore.   
Amara leaned in close, she pressed her cheek to Temperance chest, to her heart. Temperance didn't hesitate to wrap her arms around her.   
'You don't want your world to end.' Amara said, her eyes closed, lashes fluttering against Temperance's skin.  
'No.' she wondered at the truth of that. 'Probably not.'  
'You are bound to it, more than other people are. My brother did not create you, you do not fit into his plan, to his rules.' The woman began stroking slow circles around her waist, over her thighs. Sharp nails exploring the ragged denim of Temperance's jeans.  
'If you say so.' Temperance threw a puzzled look at Dean, who edged closer, sitting down stiffly in a free chair.   
'Amara, what do we do now?' Dean asked, in a hushed voice, like he was addressing someone on deaths door.  
'I want to see my brother.'  
'God?' Dean asked, perplexed 'We don't know where he is.'  
'Perhaps if I destroy something he will appear?' she stretched out a hand and a nearby pot plant began to wither.  
Temperance slapped her arm, 'Stop that.' she said, without any anger. ''I need a shower, and a nap, then we can find god.' she was covered in blood and the dust of another universe, she smelled like death.  
Amara helped her to her feet, it was disconcerting to have a face so almost like her own hover in front of her, she had never looked like anyone before now. Dean followed them to the door.   
'I'll uh, I'll call Sam and Cas.'  
'Dean!' Temperance stopped him and hesitated, she wasn't sure what to say. She thought she should hug him, and did so, awkwardly.  
'It's gonna be ok.' he muttered into her ear, clinging on to her with a fierce strength.  
'No, it's not.' but she smiled all the same. 'It never is, but thats fine.'   
She went in to the bathroom to scrub a universe off her skin. Amara followed, curious and unashamed, like a child.  
'What is God to you?' she stood under the spray, running her hands through Temperance wet hair.   
'Nothing really, I always thought he must be a bit of a prick.' she sighed as the water began to cool and shut off the faucet. Amara, naked and glistening put her arms around Temperance's middle and held her loosely in the cubicle.   
Temperance waited for her to speak, or to move, the woman's eyes were riveted to her own, she noticed that they were dark, not grey like her own, some other colour altogether, a darkness that was void of something as simple as colour but was somehow richer, deeper, more colourful than anything she had ever seen.   
Temperance found that her hand crept up to trace the Mark on Amara's chest, it was flush with her skin, not raised or ragged, it looked like part of her.  
'It's my name.' she explained, her husky voice was soothing.  
'Amara?'  
'No, that is just an approximate sound that you can comprehend.' her own hand swept over Temperance's unmarked arm. 'I will go now, I wish to see the world.'  
'Will you start destroying it?'  
'Not yet. I am not strong yet.'  
'Oh, yeah, sorry about that.'   
'You did not cause this weakness in me, He did.' Amara pulled clothes onto herself, out of nothing, a dark flowing dress and sandals that Temperance remembered seeing in Italy, years ago.   
'My brother once told me that his Creations would eventually outpace us, do you believe that?'  
'i don't believe anything, anymore.'  
Amara leaned in and kissed her, softly on the mouth, and without a sound, she disappeared. Temperance cold and alone, and a little turned on, trudged out of the bathroom.

She dressed in clean clothes, in clothes that she had not died in, strange that that was a dwindling pile of belongings, and went to the kitchen. Why was it, she wondered, that important things always happened in the kitchen, do we need proximity to beef jerky and cheap beer to talk or was it just that there was a table and chairs and no books to spill things on.  
Sam shot out of his seat when he saw her and gathered her up, his long arms crushing her to him. 'I love you, god, I thought. Shit.' he pulled away long enough to look at her, a searching glance, then hugged her tight again.  
'You're Ok.'  
Castiel, she noticed, had a half healed graze on his cheek and a bruise under one glittering eye. She could smell the remains of his Grace, he was so much more human than he had any right to be.   
She sat near him and he leaned towards her, drinking her in with his usual intensity.  
'Hello.' his gravelly voice was a little worn out.   
'Hi.'  
'You removed the Mark.'  
'We did.' she nodded, holding out her arm for his inspection. He gazed at her skin a while, then blinked and pulled his head up with a sigh.  
'Where is she? Amara?' Dean asked, shifting in his seat.  
'She went out, said she wouldn't start breaking the universe yet.' Temperance shrugged, took Dean's beer from his hands and drank it down, ignoring his snort of protest. When the bottle was drained she said.  
'So, I should tell you guys a few things.'  
'Like how come you were dead and the Devil brought you through a magic door, and then the Darkness brought you back to life?' Dean hitched on a weak smile, but his face was troubled.  
'Yeah, that kind of stuff.' she towelled her wet hair, looking down at her dirty boots. 'That world, well, you saw it. It was a wreck, it was post-apocalyptic and I was drunk for most of it. I figured that the Darkness was in me, like, taking a ride in my head, so I killed an Archangel and let him kill me so that the Darkness would be bound to my flesh. I thought I could trap it, her, and Lucifer there. So, yeah, clearly that didn't exactly work out. She brought us all back.'  
'You let yourself get killed?' Dean asked, his tone shifting to a dark disapproval.  
'Does that surprise you?' Castiel asked, his head swivelling between Dean and Temperance. 'We have often discussed Temperance's fixation with death and suicide.  
'Cas!' Dean hissed, smacking the back of his hand to the Angel's arm.  
'Discussed huh?' she quirked a brow at them, which seemed to put Dean back at ease.  
'What was it like?' Deans handsome face creasing into a frown 'Being dead this time?'  
'Weird'   
There wasn't a way to describe it, it had happened, it had been strange. She thought she remembered it but it skittered away behind her mind when she tried to think about it.  
'Weird?'  
'Yeah, really weird. I was dead, wasn't a Demon, don't have a soul. Whatever thing is me, inside my flesh, whatever it is that makes me like tequila and The Slits, that thing was somewhere. Somewhere else.'  
'Were you happy?'   
She looked at Dean, who wouldn't meet her eyes for long. 'No.'  
Sam snorted 'Figures!'  
'Hey, I'm miserable. It's part of my nature.' she shrugged, theatrically. She tried to make them smile, she knew that she once she would have wanted their smiles, because she loved them, because they were her family.   
'So.' Sam asked, tapping the tabletop. 'What do we do about Lucifer?'  
'Ah.' she began to plait her hair, pinching water from the ends. 'Not sure yet, do we think Amara will go full psycho on us?'  
'Didn't get much of a read on her.' Dean looked thoughtfully at her 'What did you think about her? Got a bad feeling?'  
An uncomfortable silence filled the kitchen as Sam shifted around, bringing his dark, doe, eyes down to hers. 'Um, the spell.' he spread his large hands. 'You're heart.'  
'Yeah, I know, into eternity it is gone.'  
'You seem pretty calm about that.' Dean began to pick at the peeling laminate on the tabletop. 'Its a big part of what makes you human, being able to love, to feel.'  
'Well, I was never very human to being with.' she reasoned, aware of the space inside her where she should care.  
'So, you don't love anymore, at all?' Dean looked devastated for her.  
'No, I can't even remember it, love. I think this is what its like to be soulless, not that I had one of those either, but its like all my sympathy is gone.I don't feel remorse anymore, for things that I've done, not that I ever really did, I don't feel guilty. Its gone.'  
'Crowley.' Dean began, then he trailed off to silence.  
'Well, at least he could die before the sex started to get stale.' she said, taking a stab at humour.  
'That was needlessly harsh, Tem.' Dean spoke after a beat, shaking his head.  
'Am I not needlessly harsh?'  
'Thats a front an you know it! You act like that it fucking protect yourself from the world around you, but you don't mean it and you don't do it with me, with us.' he pressed.  
She considered that, thought he was probably right and nodded in agreement.  
'Um.' Sam cleared his throat 'I lost my soul, for a while.'  
A silence, a heavy, voluminous silence. The type of silence that was a three part novel and film spin off. 'Yeah.' she said, once the weight of it became too much. 'The Devil told me.'  
'I'm, we're, sorry that you had to find out like that.' He winced down at his joined hands.

It would have been painful, once, she thought. It should have stabbed at the tender place where her vicious self worth lay, but that was gone. Everything was duller, softer. She found that she didn't care that they had left her ignorant or misled her, she waited, patiently until Dean looked at her once more.  
'It must have sounded bad, but.' he glanced at his brother, at the Angel and back to her. 'We did some things we aint proud of, but we didn't have much of a choice.'  
'Why didn't you tell me that Sam was a vessel for possession, or that he was in Hell? That Lucifer tortured him in his cage for years?'  
'Its.' Dean paused. 'He doesn't like talking about it.'  
'Well what else don't I know?' she asked with a sigh.  
Castiel answered 'Sam has hybrid blood, you know this.'  
'Yeah, you said a Demon fed him it as a kid?'  
'Yes.' Castiel nodded 'He was also addicted to it, for quite a time. He fell under the influence of a Demon and drank it to sustain his body as a vessel for Lucifer.'  
'He, wait,' She blinked up at Sam. 'You planned to let Lucifer in?'  
'Tem.' Dean wouldn't meet her gaze, he kept his eyes bent to the floor. 'Sam is the reason why Michael could free Lucifer Sam opened the gates to the prison and he weakened the cage by doing that. Please, believe us that he tried to fix it! He sacrificed himself to shut it down. Once he realised what he had done, what he had done under the influence of Demonic blood! He closed the Cage with his soul. Thats how Lucifer could torture him. He threw himself into that prison to save the world!'  
She considered that, drumming her hands on her lap, idly. Sam was one of the reasons why Michael could free Lucifer, she was the other.   
'Michael freed Lucifer because the Cage had been weakened. He opened it with Nephilim blood, with my blood.' she touched where the Mark had been.   
'When we fought, when I killed myself, he did it to get my blood, he's been planning this for a long, long time.'  
'The blood of the Nephilim can undo God's creation.' Castiel said softly. 'It is why they are abominations.'  
She straightened her spine at that, knowing that the word had often been said to hurt her. 'And I'm an abomination a few times over.'  
'Shit' Dean spat 'Shit, god-fucking-damn it! That bastard! We should have tried to kill him!'  
'We couldn't have known.' Sam soothed his brother, kindly.  
'Cain must have.' she said, frowning. 'Cain must have known. Maybe thats why I was made, conceived, Michael wanted Nephilim blood.'  
There was a pregnant pause while the men and ex-Angel took this in, Castiel shook his head, bewilderedly. 'It is possible, I guess.'  
She searched her memory for any indication, the slightest slip up, but there wasn't anything there. Nothing to confirm or deny it. 'Ok, thats another tomorrow problem then.' she flicked her eyes over the counter top, spied her fish shaped mug by the sink.   
'Wait, how is Sam here, how is he alive on earth? If you died, body and soul, how the hell are you back?'  
Castiel and Dean shared a look, Dean nodded. 'Dean made a deal with Death to free his soul and I raised his body. I replaced him in the Cage with another.'  
'Another? Another soul?' she felt her mind sink at this, felt her opinions rearranging. It went against everything that she thought she knew about them, everything. It turned out the greater-good was only important up to a certain point.  
'You sacrificed a human soul to get Sam out of a Cage that he fucking put himself into!'  
'He's my brother.' Dean said, it was all he could say. 'He's my brother.'  
'That soul was someones family too! A human fucking soul! Who the fuck knows what it is now, what type of torment its been exposed to!'  
'We know who it was.' he mumbled, tears stinging his eyes 'And, he was someones family.'  
'Well! Who the fuck was it!'  
'Our dad.' his voice hollow 'John Winchester.'

The brief flare of fight went out of her, settling back under the thick and muffling sense of loss inside her chest. 'Thats a whole thing isn't it.'   
Standing quickly she went to the press under the sink, looking for her whiskey, the space where the bottle usually lay was empty.   
'Shit.'  
She stared at the plumbing for a minute 'Whats it like, being soulless?' she asked without turning around.  
Sam spoke hesitantly. 'It was like I couldn't understand human feelings anymore, I could see them but I didn't get them.' The effort to speak seemed to cost him everything, his voice came out small and strained.   
'I lied all the time, I manipulated people. I was like a fucking sociopath until I got it back.'  
'Sounds pretty rough, buddy.' she crossed over the Lino and patted his massive arm, awkwardly. 'You got it back though, you know that that person wasn't really you.'  
'Is this really you?” Sam asked, looking up at her. 'Do you still feel like you?'  
She didn't have a good response to that, not a nice one they could swallow. 'I don't think I've known who me is exactly, not for a very long time.'  
'Do you.' Dean made an abortive gesture to spread his hands, clamping them both under his arms.  
'Still want to be a Hunter and fight the good fight?' she hazarded a guess. 'I don't know. I guess that I want to see this through, whatever this is.'  
'Amara is older than God.' Castiel said,. 'From what I understand, older and less inclined to create life. She has been weakened by eternity in her cage, I do not know what will happen when she gains an understanding of God's creation or when she returns to her full strength.'  
'Ok, so, Amara is fucking scary.' Dean shook his head, he kept glancing at Temperance, as if expecting her to burst into flame. 'How do we stop it?'  
'Act of God?' Sam said, dryly.  
'Pfft, god, useless fucker.'  
'Tem! He's God, show a little respect!' Dean clapped his hands to his eyes, a tremor running down his spine.  
'He's not my god.' She said, as lightly as possible.   
'Well, who the heck is?' Dean stood, perplexed.   
'Patti fucking Smith.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would really love feedback or advice on this, thanks <3


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The music took life beneath her fingers, she scowled, brow crumpling as she played on. She didn't think she could stop, it was a tango, flamenco, metal on a baby grand, passion and something angry she could feel welling in her fingertips, but it didn't touch the ice where her heart had been......
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

The days that followed were tense, Dean knew he wasn't getting enough sleep, knew that he was driving himself crazy. Temperance was back, she was back, she was here, with them, but it was like she wasn't. She was back and she was broken and Cas was breaking apart too. Everyone he loved was hurting and it was all on him, he had to go be a jumped up Hunter and mess around with shit he didn't understand. He told himself, with a bitter snarl, that he did much more harm then good.  
He looked into his mirror, avoiding the whole, trying not too see himself as he brushed his teeth, combed his hair. He hated that guy, Crowley had hit the nail on the head years before when he said, that no-one hated him more than he hated himself. He sneered, dropping his eyes from the reflection  
He made coffee, strong and dark and almost dropped the pot when Temperance spoke, close behind him. 'Castiel is wandering the halls in your boxers.'  
He jumped, flushing pink. 'How do you know they're mine?'  
'I assumed that you bought plaid.' she sank into a chair without a trace of the humour he would have expected. 'So. 'He's getting more human?'  
'His Grace, its, uh, its gone. We don't know what to do.' He looked her over, trying not to be too critical. She was a lot less animated now, and she hadn't been particularly animated before, he couldn't get a read on her anymore.   
'Without his powers he basically a baby in a trench-coat.'  
She considered the coffee pot and poured a small measure into a mug, not her usual mug, she frowned as she tasted her drink. 'Could I give him mine?'   
'What?' Dean's posture instantly changed 'Hell no!'  
'Relax, it won't kill me.' she tasted the coffee again. 'Not right away.'  
'Its a part of you, come on! You were doing so good, you said you were, like, reconciled with what you are. Why do you want to get rid of it now?'  
He wondered, silently, had she been happy with herself, had she really been content with the duality of her nature. Or had she fooled him, she was good at fooling them when she needed to. It was easy for her to hide behind the mask of her flesh and let them see what they wanted to see.   
'I just thought that it might help.' she said, after a moment. 'Help him, you want to help him, I can try to do that.'  
'But, well yeah, I wanna help Cas, but I don't want to hurt you in doing it!' he ran his fingers through his hair, thinking of all the pain he had watched her suffer.   
'Oh.'   
He was at a loss, she had forgotten how love worked, she had forgotten how family worked. He knew she had only been dead a couple of hours, in that other world, he knew that she had only spent a few days there, so how could she have changed so much.   
The spell that took her heart might have been instantaneous, or maybe it was gradual. Had her heart disappeared or bled away, a type of miscarried humanity left staining the dust.   
'Tem.' he took the coffee from her and tipped it into the sink. 'You don't like coffee.'  
'I wondered if it would be the same.' was all she answered, shrugging.  
Dean looked down at his coffee, the dark liquid was going cold in his hands. He didn't know how to help, he wanted to, but he had no way to fix her.   
'You just need to remember what you liked and why.' he said, firmly, convincing himself as he spoke that that they could grow her heart back. 'Whens the last time you watched a foreign language movie? Huh?'  
'Dean, English isn't my first language.' she almost smiled, looking up at him. Her familiar face was blank.   
'Oh, uh, yeah. I forgot. How come you're so bad at Latin, if Italian is?'  
'Italian isn't my first language either.'   
'Let me guess, some dialect of Hell?' he tried to joke, knocking her in the ribs 'Monster language? French?'  
'Cain spoke Aramaic with me.' she explained. 'I thought you knew that, you saw my memories.'  
'It sounded like English to me.' he shrugged. 'You said that Cain looks like whatever you expected him to look like, maybe it was the same for language.'  
'Maybe' she didn't sound very interested. 'Any cases on the go?'  
'Not yet. Maybe once we're done with research, Sam's on the rampage.'  
'For Castiel or for Amara?'  
'Both.' he led her to the library, where Sam was stacking piles of books and scrolls in an intricate pattern on the long tables.  
'This' he indicated to two table by the door 'Is what I've got on Fallen Angels. This.' he gestured to the pile in front of him 'If about the nature of Gods. Get reading.'  
Without another word he picked up a tome and his notebook and sat down in silence. Dean went to the desk beside his brother, leaving Temperance with the volumes on Fallen Angles.  
Hours trickled by slowly, Dean could have sworn he heard the clock ticking backwards. He gave up on his book after reading the same passage half a dozen times, yawned and got up to stretched his legs, before heading down the hall to check on Castiel.  
The Angel was dosing in his bed, fully dressed but for his shinny shoes. 'Hey?” Dean called, softly from the door. There was no response so he went in and prodded Castiel in the chest. 'Cas, wake up.'  
'Huh?” he grunted, eyes dragging open. He peeled himself off his pillow and sat up, glumly. 'I'm tired.'  
'You've been asleep all day, don't you wanna eat?'  
'Yes.' Castiel stood, nodding and shuffled out of the room, dropping his trench coat on a hook by the door.   
Dean watched him carefully make a sandwich, he cut the crust off neatly like a child and poured himself a glass of juice. 'I like sandwiches.' he addressed his bread.  
'How are you feeling?'  
He looked up, mouth full of bread and peanut butter. He swallowed thickly before answering. 'Fine, hungry.'  
'Yeah, but like, about being human?”  
'Oh.' he paused 'I am coming to terms with it.'  
'Hey, thats great!' Dean patted his shoulder 'Thats really good, um, so. Tem offered you hers?'  
'Her Grace?' he spoke with his mouth, spraying crumbs on the table.  
'Yeah.'  
'Huh.' he grunted.

'Hi Cas.' Temperance came in looking bored and spoke to Dean 'Sam said something about Bobby's journal?'  
'Oh, shit, Ok! Um, keep Cas company for me.' he hurried away, leaving the two almost human things alone.  
'You look like shit.' she said, conversationally.  
'I have been sleeping.'  
'You need fresh air, bit of exercise.' she poked his discarded crusts and began to nibble at them. 'Change of scenery.'  
'I would like that.' he looked at her, hopefully. 'I would also, like to speak with you.'  
'Shoot.' she said, around the bread.  
'There are things I never had to worry about before that have taken over my day to day existence. Eating, sleeping, being injured. Its exhausting and it has occurred to me that one day I am going to die.'   
'So, nothing too big then. Come with me.'  
His hand was a little clammy in hers, his fingers held on a little too tightly. She took him outside then pulled him across the world, to a garden.  
He smiled, examining a patch of bright roses then looking away from the flower beds and over the soft green grass. 'Where are we?'  
'Sligo.' she pointed to a distant mountain and he nodded.  
'I have been here before, a long time ago.'  
'Talk to me, man.' she picked a walkway and led him under the a dappled canopy of leaves and silver barked trees.   
'There are questions that I have, but no answers. I need assistance and I would not presume to ask for help if I was not desperate. I am lost, Sister, and I need help.'  
'How can I help?'  
'I do not know, Dean said you offered your own Grace, that was kind of you.'  
'Was it?' She linked his arm, walking at a steady pace through the park. 'Am I kind, was I kind?'  
'Yes.' he squeezed the hand that was tucked into the crook of his arm. His shirt was soft, wrinkled and wilting for want of starch.  
'What happens to Grace when its removed? Does it get used up?” she frowned down at the cobblestones. Probably he didn't want to think about that.  
'Do you want it back?'  
She looked at him, it felt like she had never seen him before. His lips were pink, full and turned down at the edges. He was handsome, not pretty like Dean or chiseled like Sam, Castiel was handsome, manly. She thought she might not mind seeming him and Dean kissing.   
His brow was creased in confused concentration as he considered her question.  
'I have been human for some time.'  
'And its not getting easier.' she finished his sentence for him. He nodded, glumly.   
'I feel alone, adrift, cast aside by everything. You have felt this way too.'  
'Yeah.' she supposed that she had, but she couldn't summon up a memory of it now.   
'I am tired of being alone. I am tired.' he bit off his sentence with a shake of his head.  
'Its not uncharitable to think that your relationship with us, with the boys, is one sided.' she thought she knew where his thoughts were traveling and felt it was important to try and explain people to him.   
'Its ok to feel that you don't have support.'  
'Have you felt that Dean and Sam expect your assistance but rarely offer theirs?' he asked, shyly.   
'Sometimes, but, I think they are better at helping me because they don't see me as a superman.'  
He gave her a baleful look and she sat him down on a bench under a birch tree, keeping her hand in his.  
'They always thought that you were amazing, strong, capable, good. You could never need them, in their minds, because you were perfect. That much is clear. Dean adores you, he loves you, but he doesn't think you ever need help, because the version of you in his head is infallible.'  
Castiel's frown deepened, he sucked in his cheeks before raising his head. 'How do you know these things?'  
'I have eyes.' she said. 'I noticed before. I cant notice things like that anymore, I know that I'm different now.'  
'Your heart is gone, your empathy, your love.' he put a hand to her chest, his disregard for boundaries was still a big part of him, she thought wryly.   
'You will never be as you once were. As I will never be as I was, even if my Grace is returned, I have experienced humanity now. I am changed by it.'  
She covered his hand with hers and pulled it back down the wooden seat. 'I was changed by a lot of things, by circumstances, by people. I've always been able to live with those changes, more or less, but this.' she shook her head.   
'This is an absence of feeling, I know I must have felt so much before. Its boring now, existence has become so fucking dull.'  
He considered her, his eyes flicking over her face, her body, then down to the ground. 'Did you think that removing your Grace might kill you?'  
He was perceptive, she would give him that. She raised a brow and said. 'Maybe.'  
'You have a preoccupation with death.'  
'Its the shiny toy that I can't have.' she tried to smile. 'And I was so fucking depressed for so very long.'  
'You sought death many times before?'  
'Yeah, a few.' she pulled up the memories, reviewed them at her own pace. The overdoses, the knives, the lifestyle. She had flirted with dying, courted it,   
'I suppose I hated myself for existing. I was taught to hate myself, in a way. In a few ways.'  
Castiel nodded along, he was making an effort to understand her, what she was saying. She could see him trying to apply her words to his own circumstances.  
'Do you know why you were conceived?' he asked, after a few minutes of this.  
'Accidentally.' she shrugged,  
'You do not believe that.' he stated, firmly.   
'I can hazard a guess.' she touched her fingers together, pulling out the pieces of this puzzle that she had. 'Micheal wanted a Nephilim, Abaddon wanted to fuck with his plans. I think that once I was there, alive, she realised how powerful I was. Which is in part, thanks to her, and she panicked. She didn't know how to use me and she certainly didn't want to get rid of me. I've always been a tool, a pawn, a, I don't know. A thing in someone else's plans. It was horrible when I understood that much, it pushed me nearer to the edge as a kid.'  
'And when you became a tool for others, yet again, when you took the Mark, you felt the evil of it more acutely. It harmed you more than it would have otherwise, because you felt such pain at being coerced into taking it.'  
She nodded. 'Yep, thats it. I assume.'  
'You have felt betrayed, many times, and felt each time as keenly as if it was the first.' He stood and she rose to follow him down the winding path. 'Does part of you want to die, so that people can stop hurting you?'  
'I don't know anymore. Sorry. I'm just not the same person these days. I'm not really a person at all.'  
He looked at her pendant, considering it with heavy eyes. 'I spent a lot of time with Crowley, did you know that?'  
'I know you worked a job together, but not much about it. He had you listed as Agent Feathers in his phone. She rummaged for her own and opened up the contacts, to show him the picture that Crowley had set. It was of Castiel's false FBI badge the name on the card read 'Beyonce'.  
'He spoke, a lot, at length. Almost continuously. I found him to be sarcastic but also quite thoughtful and appreciative. He had a lot of soul, for a Demon.'  
She snorted. 'More than most, his soul wasn't all that good.'  
They continued their walk in peace, watching birds take flight and insects crawl along the foliage.   
'Sister, I am conflicted.' Castiel spoke as they reached the end of the path.   
There was a little ice-cream stand, with wrought iron tables and chairs under heavy parasols, she steered him towards it and bought two 99's. Soft serve ice-cream with a chocolate Flake and raspberry sauce, the stuff of her childhood dreams. He watched his for a few moments, until it began to melt, and drip over the cone.   
'I wish for you to give me your Grace, because I want to be as I was. I do not want to be human.'  
'Ok.' she agreed, slurping on the ice-cream, her face tilted to the sun.  
'But.' he bit into his Flake. 'I do not want to harm you any further. I do not want to chip away at what remains of the woman that I love, that my friends love. I do not want to be yet another person who takes from you.'  
She finished her cone, snapping the slightly stale wafer in her teeth. 'You've never hurt me, Castiel. You've been unfailingly good in that respect. I would want to help you if I was still me, probably, so, let me.'  
'If you gave me your Grace.' he worried his lips raw. 'I would keep it until I could regain my own, then return it. I know that I could do this.'  
'Ok, so I lend you my Angel Juice. You fix yourself up and if the world doesn't end, we can sort it out after.' She stood up, offering him a hand, which he took. His eyes were swimming with unrest. She thought he might refuse, but he nodded firmly and she brought them back to the Bunker.

There were a few Angel Blades knocking around, she knew Dean stashed one in the kitchen and handed it to Castiel. She popped open the buttons on her collar, baring her throat to him. 'Go on.'  
'Thank you.' he said, screwing his eyes shut and pressing the knife into her skin.  
It hurt, it stung, she was glad that he was holding her against the wall because the rushing, sucking sensation of being emptied would have sent her crashing to the floor. Bright, blue tinged, light seemed to move ponderously in the air before them, then he opened his lips and with a screeching flash her Grace disappeared down his throat and he dropped her, staggering back.  
She put a hand to her neck, feeling the skin heal under her palm, she was shaking slightly, An after-burn of that light swam in her eyes and didn't seem to want to clear.  
'Are you alright?'  
Castiel was stock still, then a shuddering flash of lightning seemed to illuminate his body from within, and a shadow of broken wings reared up around him, he opened his eyes and they glowed. 'I am.'  
She pulled herself up, looking down at her hands, turning them over, experimentally. She felt different, she couldn't say how, it wasn't like loosing her heart. This loss cut so much deeper but was so much easier to ignore.   
'Your eyes.' Castiel touched her chin, turning her face up. She pulled away, flinching at something like pain, like wrongness. His touch had hurt.   
She let her eyes flicker back to human, the oily black orbs of her Demon side having opened up to heal her skin. 'Demon.' she said with a hard smile.  
'You cannot bare my touch?' he sounded terribly sad.  
'Doesn't matter.' she said. 'Well, are you back? Are you ok?'  
He sighed, holy contentment seemed to flood his face, giving him a serene air that she hadn't realised he had been missing. 'Yes, I am. Thank you Temperance. Sister.'  
'Still Sister?” she mocked, lightly, pulling a beer from the fridge. 'More of a distant cousin at this stage.'  
He blinked, then smiled 'You made a joke.' he seemed very pleased. 'I must leave now, I promise to return when I have regained my Grace.'  
She saluted with her bottle 'Take care, love.'

She didn't get much time to relax, a few day later, still reeling and off balance from the shredding of her being, the lights on the map table began to pulse. A signal for them to see that huge surges of magic were occurring within their range.   
'Sam!' Dean roared, summoning his brother from the library 'Its happening, look.'  
The pattern was concentrated around central America, Sam's eyes were wide as saucers as he took it in, the he hurried to check the news on his phone. Dean was already dragging his bags to the car.  
'Tem, come on, get in! Cas!'  
'He's not here.' she explained 'He's gone to try and find his Grace.'  
'Now?' Dean smacked his head with the heel of his palm. 'Christ, ok, well, we can deal with that later. Sam! Get in!'  
He drove erratically and barely let them stop to pee. After a few days they reached the Mexican border and got out, cramped and cranky.  
'How do we get across?' Sam asked. 'There doesn't seem to be any guards.'  
'Road here was quiet.' Dean took out a pair of binoculars from the boot and fixed them on the crossing. 'There aint anyone there.'  
'Rock-paper-scissors?' Sam held out a broad hand.  
Temperance watched Sam win the game and hurry down the road, gun out. 'Why do you guys decide things that way?'  
'Habit.' Dean grunted, eyes on his brother 'Its how we decided you should come live with us.'  
'Wow.' she made an effort not to try and think about that and put her hand into her pocket, looking out on the sunny vista. Her fingers brushed off a crumpled piece of plastic and she took it out, holding it cupped in her hands.   
Two yellow pills in a tiny ziplock bag. She didn't remember buying these, they were probably old enough to have lost a lot of potency. She glanced at Dean, shuffling slightly before slapping her palm to her mouth to dry swallowed one of them, pulling a face as it settled in her throat.   
Pills, she recalled, used to make her talk, chat, they made her bounce around in agitation and see everything, everything. She shuddered at the bitter taste of it going down as Sam called, beckoning them over. 

The little booths on the road where customs officers and armed guards had stood were empty, they didn't look used, there was no pens, or paper, nothing tacked up on the walls, not even a smudge of grease on the glass.   
'Its like everything living is just gone.' Sam explained. 'Theres a few trucks down there, near the riverbed, clean as anything. Like they just came off the lot.'  
Temperance was nodding, she couldn't stop nodding and smiled to herself. Nod along, just don't open your mouth. She told herself, clenching her fingers in her jacket, then her toes inside her boots. Maybe this wasn't a pills occasion, maybe this was more of a cocaine job.  
'Tem?' Dean called her 'Earth to Tem, come in.'  
'Sorry!' she spun, too fast, far too fast.  
'Sorry, sorry sorry, was miles away.'  
'Uh.' he took a step back, glancing at his brother 'Ok, well, go check out the buildings further down there, I'm going along the riverbed and Sam will keep an eye out here.'  
'Coola-boola.' she took off, trying to remember how to put her feet on the ground in a normal fashion and skipping towards the outpost.   
The building was deserted, there was a desk and a few chairs and a small tea station round the back. She found a can of cola in the fridge and sipped it while she walked around. Her bones felt a bit funny. It felt good, something felt good. She liked feeling good.   
She laughed out loud at that thought and tried to sniff out any magic, forgetting that she didn't have her Grace to do so.  
Her eyes flickered to black, she saw things under the sun that human eyes could not see. She saw trails of something that wasn't smoke, she knew it to be souls, dead ones, used up ones. 'Shit.'   
She took off towards it, in the scrub were two bodies. Dead bodies, the remains of their being smeared like ash in the air around them. She saw the welts around their mouths, grey and ragged, where their souls had been ripped out. 'Eaten up by a big bad wolf.' she said, to herself. 'Oh, I should tell someone, yeah, yep.' She took out her phone and text Sam, it seemed sensible. People text each other, normal people. Castiel liked texting.  
He wandered down the road a few minutes later. 'You text me?'  
'Didn't want to shout.' she offered him some of her cola which he refused.   
'Shit.' he squatted down. 'Magic?'  
'Souls got taken. Eaten. Slurped right out.' she licked her lips, her mouth was dry, her gums felt tacky and tingly. She rubbed her tongue over the back of her teeth, staring down blankly.  
'Tem?' Sam blocked the light when he stood. 'Are you ok?”  
She looked up, blinked her gritty eyelids down. His hair looked very nice, she always meant to ask him what conditioner he used. 'Does your soul remember being in the Cage?'  
He gasped, a tiny breath, as if he was hurt. 'Yeah. I remember all of it.'  
'It is open.' she said, miming the action with her hands. 'Your dad is still there but he could come out.'  
'He's dead.' Sam looked away from her, his eyes were slitted against the glare 'Theres no where to put his soul, we could try send it to Heaven, but.'  
'But Heavens a terrifying prospect at the mo.' she reached up to clap a hand on his shoulder, drumming her fingers over the hard muscle on his back. 'Get a Witch, Witches can get bodies if you've a soul for them. Papa Midnite taught me all about that, he had a ton of acolytes before me who could give it a go. We'd have to go to New Orlean's, its nice there, you'd like it, cultural and all that shite and the foods good.'  
She heard herself ramble on, but couldn't stop the torrent of words, she felt Sam's rising shock. 'I actually think Dean might of killed him, Papa, the dates in your case files are a little too close for coincidence but, hey, better not to know right. I know a really good bar there, we could go dancing!'  
This last sentence was delivered a little too loud and she flushed, dropping her face to the ground.   
'Are you high?' His voice laced with anger now.  
'Only a little.' she muttered.   
'Sober up.' he demanded, all the softness gone from his voice. 'Now.'  
She obliged, purging her system with a little flick between Demon and Human. She touched her lips, a sting from where she had worried them.  
'What. The. Hell!' Sam snarled 'You wanna get killed, or get us killed? You wanna jepordise the job? Christ, grow up!'  
He stomped away, leaving her to head back to the car, very aware that she should feel bad about herself. Dean was dusty, chugging water from a bottle and waving them over.  
'Find anything.'  
'Bodies, souls gone.' Sam said shortly, sitting down in the passenger seat. 'It must be Amara.'  
Temperance zoned out, closing her eyes and counting her breaths until Dean said something that made her sit up. 'Find god?' she asked.  
'Yeah.' Dean turned the key in the ignition. 'Gotta be a way.'  
'He's been M.I.A forever.' she pointed out. 'He's not gonna be having a pint in fucking Ascensión.'  
Dean made a non committal noise in his throat that would have usually put her on guard, she realised, with a sigh, they weren't telling her something.   
'Dean?'  
'We, well, a couple of years ago we met a guy. A guy we thought was a prophet, named Chuck.'  
'So, Chuck knows where god is?'  
'Not exactly.' he said, between clenched teeth. 'But we can get a lead with some of the info that he gave us.'  
'Right.' she closed her eyes again, there is was, lies. Lies upon lies.   
It should hurt her, she knew it should, but she didn't really care. So what if they didn't trust her, she knew herself and she wouldn't trust herself either.   
Dean drove to a town called Sierra Vista and found a hotel after stoping by a dive bar near the border and asking for a place. The owner was named Bonnie, she smiled when she gave them directions, her glasses low down on her nose as she put a pin in Sam's map application on his phone.   
The hotel was almost empty, the bored teenager behind the counter gave them a family room with two double beds. Sam immediately whipped out his laptop and started tapping away at his database.  
'Here.' he said, after a few minutes. Dean pulled the screen towards him and nodded.  
'Sorry, am I missing something here?' Temperance looked form the blog to the brothers. 'Its all pictures of cats.'  
'And kittens.' San said, as if that mattered.  
'Is it, like, a fucking riddle?'  
'Um, we think that God wrote it.' Dean said. 'It might tell us his last location.'  
She checked her system for any residual drug effects, paying close attention to her spine to see if she was having that decade after acid trip, that John had promised. She came up clean and looked back at the image of a fluffy white monstrosity stretching its claws in the sun.   
'You think your god has a cat pic blog?'  
Dean shrugged, rubbing his mouth and going to stare moodily out the window. Sam began clicking and typing, grunting after a few minutes when the screen showed a line of confusing code. 'Last post was in El Paso, 12 hours ago. Got a hit from a cell-tower.'  
'We can drive over tomorrow.' Dean's voice was low, he didn't speak much after that.

The town was empty, perfectly, empty, like a stage awaiting players. It was neat, clean, sterile and scary. 'Where is everyone?' Sam's voice hushed. 'Its empty, like the border.'  
Temperance squinted at the too clean town square, up at the fiery ball of the sun hanging like a guillotine in the sky. 'I need to piss.'  
She had been struggling through the last week on a dwindling supply of booze and drugs, it was much harder to feel nothing than she had ever anticipated. There was a tiny blue vial of cocaine in her sleeve, the lid had a minuscule spoon attached, presumably designed for Victorian's to do posh bumps of snuff after dinner. She had found it in John's things when she cleared them out.   
She went in a door at random, a soulless bar with an out of place piano, and into the bathroom. In the mirror she was herself, whoever that was, crooked eyeliner, hollow eyes, ear piercings. She felt ill at ease, like she was about to fall, like the earth was sliding away from her.  
She lifted her head form the vial, blinking back tears as her eyes stung, sniffing she patted water on her face an stared at the tap as it ran. Steam spiralled into the small space making the spotted mirrors cloudy and her reflection soft, she wiped a hand across the condensation and jumped. 'Jesus!'  
'No, sorry.' he could have been in his forties, curly brown hair and a neat beard. He was wearing jeans and a grey button down under a red jacket, and offered her a beaming smile.  
She turned around, she was coming up quickly, she could feel it rising inside her, with her pulse. She wiggled her jaw around, clasped her wrists and tried to fight it back. 'God?'  
'Chuck.' he held out a hand, she looked at it dumbly.   
'No.' she walked through the door, carefully aware of her footsteps, she marched to a bar stool, sat on it, digging her fingers into the leather.  
'Um, you ok?' he asked, following her out.  
Outside she heard Dean calling and she closed her eyes, which didn't seem like the best thing to do around god, but she did it anyway.  
'Tem are you?' Sam burst through the double door. 'Who the hell? Chuck!”  
'Hi Sam.'  
'What are you doing here?' Sam pressed his palms together, blinking rapidly as he took in the other man.  
'He's god.' Temperance mauled her face for a minute, before shaking her head and sobering herself up. 'Fucking wasteful.'  
'Class A's huh?'  
'You invented them.' she snarled, turning around. Sam was staring, mouth agape, she walked over to him, stood shoulder to shoulder. It was more shoulder to rib cage, he was massively tall against her.   
'You're a cunt, I've always wanted to say that. God, you're a fucking cunt and I hope nothing ever brings you joy and all your socks get holes in the toes. Fuck yourself.'  
'Tem!' Sam shoved her quickly behind him 'She didn't mean.'  
'Yah, she did.' Chuck shrugged 'And she's allowed be angry, she's had Amara in her head.'  
'You fucked her over, you fucked my dad over, you fucking fucked me the fuck over.' Temperance growled, her hand clenching on her knife under her jacket.  
'Cain was a great kid, Lucifer got to him, I didn't want that for him, but I couldn't intervene, there are rules.' he began to say more, but she cut him off.  
'I don't believe you.'  
He sighed, he looked sad, perfectly sad, like an actor. 'Amara wanted to kill my worlds! All my creations!' he held out his hands 'Please understand, I love her so much, but she's dangerous and I had to lock her away.'  
'I'm dangerous, she's just upset.' Temperance countered.  
'She killed everyone who lived in this town, scrubbed it clean.' Chuck, god, tapped his fingers on the zinc topped bar. 'Do you get what she wants, I mean, she latched on to you when she got free, she was a part of you for a while.'  
'No, not really, she said she was pissed off at you. Wanted to know what you had been doing while she had been imprisoned for all eternity against her will, you know, the usual.'  
'She wants to destroy everything I've made, all my stories, she wants them gone.' Chuck frowned.  
'Can she do that?' Sam asked, his face pale in the halogen light.   
'Well, yeah, she can do anything. She's like me, except she's really not like me.'  
'Great answer.' Temperance rolled her eyes and went to sit by the piano, looking moodily out the tall windows.

'Tem?' Dean approached after a while, she wasn't sure how long, her mind had slipped off. 'So, uh, Chuck is a guy we met a long time ago.'   
'You met god before and didn't know? You said he was a prophet.'  
'Yeah, we didn't know that he was God to begin with, um, look. He's a good dude, he told us a few things about the Darkness, about why they fought. He wants to talk to her, you know, save the world and patch things up, but, he's dying.'  
'God is dying and he wants to patch things up?' She looked up at him then, noticing that his green eyes were shot with golden-brown, flecks of heroin coloured highlights picked out in the sun. He had a few, new, hair fine lines spreading out in crows feet under his heavy brown lashes. She looked away, filing that image in her head with a little note to think about what she was supposed to feel.  
'He hurt her, almost killed her, imprisoned her for, well, forever. Thats a big thing to patch up.' she said, at length.   
'I know.' he shrugged, sitting down on a stool. 'But I guess its different for them.'  
'He's dying?'  
'Yeah, the more she destroys the more he gets hurt, but, the thing is, if he dies, she does to. They're connected, so, we gotta heal him.'  
'Well don't look at me. I gave Cas my Grace.'  
'What?' he snapped his head back so quickly that she heard his vertebrae click. 'When, why didn't you say?'  
She shrugged and opened the piano lid and tapped out Crowley's Song without much enthusiasm. 'The world is about to end.'  
He let out a strangled moan and squeezed his eyes shut. 'Yeah, looks like.' he said, hoarsely, his hands were clasped under his chin. She thought he might be holding something back, maybe for her benefit, but it was hard to know what and harder to care.  
'Do you think this sounds alright on the piano?'  
'What? Uh, yeah?'   
She could hear the confusion in his voice, but she wanted an honest answer on this. 'I've no idea if Gus liked it, never played it for him when I got back from my stint in the 17th Century.'  
'Well, he thought everything you did was pretty great.' Dean shuffled his feet on the floor. 'Play me something else, what else you got?'  
She considered this, eyes unfocused, she didn't know if Dean liked Bowie, she had never thought to ask.   
'It's a god awful small affair, to the girl with the mousy hair....' she began, fingers moving fluidly.  
She closed her eyes, trying to recall if this song had ever meant anything to her, if it had ever made her feel anything. When it ended, Dean was silent, she ran through a few Bach phrases, tapped out the opening of a good Patti Smith. She had no idea what to do, surely if this was the end of all things then she should feel something, anything. She should feel. She should be angry, she should be kicking and roaring and screaming.   
She was hitting the keys with more force than was necessary, a soft pain radiating in her fingertips when god interrupted her.  
'You play really well.' Chuck said, strumming along, lightly, with her melody on a guitar. 'Sorry there's no cello, I could make one?'  
'You're grand, thanks.' she shrugged. 'Piano is fine, I'm getting better at it.'  
'Cain always liked music.' he said. 'Its nice that you have that too.'  
She grunted, not risking an answer. Why did he sound like a cheap novelist, why did he sound earnest. It was wrong, it was strange.   
Dean was sitting with his head hanging down, she saw a tear slide over the bridge of his nose and drop onto his lap.   
'I think that I don't want us all to die, here, in fucking El Paso.'  
'Got a preference?' Chuck smiled, picking up the tune as she played.  
'Somewhere in the Ocean, in the Mountains, somewhere that isn't Texas.' she hit a note with venom. 'I've already died twice in America, I'm sick of it.'  
The music took life beneath her fingers, she scowled, brow crumpling as she played on. She didn't think she could stop, it was a tango, flamenco, metal on a baby grand, passion and something angry she could feel welling in her fingertips, but it didn't touch the ice where her heart had been.  
She cut off short, breathing hard and turned her eyes to god. 'The fuck was that?'  
'You don't like it?' he turned a peg on his instrument, not meeting her eyes 'I thought that it would suit you.'  
'If we survive?' she hated prophecy, it tasted bitter. She turned her face to the wall.  
'If we survive.' he agreed.  
'Why are you so fucking calm?'  
She stood up on shaking legs and marched out of the bar, if she survived she wasn't going to do a damn thing that he wanted. He wasn't her god.  
She walked for hours, not really able to think, then found them at a Holiday Inn a few kilometres out of town. Chuck was chatting with Sam on the porch of their chosen lodge.  
Dean was inside, cooking, his face unreadable.  
'Hi.' she sat down on the tabletop, poking through the ingredients he had out. 'Whatcha making?'  
'Lasagne.' he pointed to a simmering vat of sugo. 'Chuck, um, God, said he likes it.'  
'So does Garfield.' she muttered.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sun had died in the sky, something ugly and bruised hung there now, the light in the bar was blood tinted and hard edged. In that light Dean Winchester reached for his brothers hand and held it tightly, then he looked at Temperance, he was ferocious and handsome, standing at the end of the world. She took his free hand, lacing her fingers between his........
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

They ate a surreal dinner with god, he looked awful by the end of it, sweating and grey faced. Nothing seemed to dampen his spirit though, he smiled and told them what he had been up to since their paths had last crossed 'I went on a couple of dates too!' he said proudly. 'Man, that was great, and I did a few open mike nights. Let me tell you that was scary, I haven't been so nervous since Noah.'  
Temperance watched Dean and Sam devouring gods words with awestruck faces, she thought she might hate it. She got up after a while, cleaned the plates and disappeared out into the night.  
The land was dead, there were no bugs in the air, no moths batting at the lamps. It was quiet enough that she grew self conscious of her own breathing and stopped.   
She watched the sunrise from the roof of the library, it was a flat bit of the country, everything was beige and brown and golden around the artificially green town square. After a few hours her phone pinged in her pocket, a text message from Dean saying that they didn't want to wake her and that they were going to check out the town with Chuck.   
'I wasn't asleep.' she muttered, but she didn't text back, three specs appeared on the horizon and made a bee line for the bar they had met Chuck in the previous night.   
She wondered if she could just stay up here for the rest of forever, maybe they wouldn't notice if she didn't come back.   
A tickle in the base of her mind alerted her to someone trying to get her attention. She looked down at the road. A woman waved, silver rimmed sunglasses blinked in the light.   
Temperance made her way down quickly, jumping without a care for her bones. She landed lightly in a neat planter, its shrubs and flowers sat like still life paintings, without so much as a bee or worm to live alongside them. The bloom of pain from a rose thorn was almost soothing and she sucked her hand, lapping at the blood.   
Under a frilly awning, by a dusty haberdashery, Amara was waiting for her. Her silver streaked eyes looked out from a neat face, behind long, thick lashes, being near her was almost like having a heart again.  
It felt like the Mark, like the First Blade, it called to her. It was desire and not in a sexual way, or, not only in a sexual way. Temperance thought about her and needed her, seeing her made everything else make sense.  
'Hi.'  
'You look forlorn.' Amara sat on the bench, taking her hand in her own. Her voice was still rich and husky.  
'I met your brother, he wants to see you.'  
'I want to see him, I can't find him.'  
'He's in a bar, down the road.' Temperance gestured with her chin. 'Want me to bring you?'  
'Yes.'  
They walked a while in silence. 'You are not angry at me, not disgusted that I unmade all the lives here?'  
Temperance sighed, stopping on the path 'No, I'm not. I should be sad for them, but I am not mad at you.'  
'Why not?'  
'Do you want me to be?'  
Amara considered this, bending to pick up a flower and spinning the purple head in her hands. 'No.'  
'Ok then.' she reached out a hand and Amara took it.  
'There is no one else like you, I've looked. The rest are all pawns in his story, players, actors.' She leaned forward, Temperance closed her eyes as Amara ran her fingers through her hair.  
'I consumed their souls, I found from them that God's creations are flawed, they do not deserve life. I unmade it all.' she whispered against Temperance's lips.  
'Why did you stop?' desire, it was desire, lust. She wanted Amara to kiss her, she wanted someone to belong to, she wanted it.  
'I love my brother.' Amara said, with an elegant shrug, moving away slightly, but not letting go of Temperance's hand.  
Temperance cocked her head at that, then realised that it was the only answer that she was getting. 'Well, here he is. Maybe you two can work things out?'   
'You have no heart, why do you care?' Amara spoke simply, directly. Temperance wished there was more time left in the universe, she thought they could be really fucking good together.  
'Because the Winchester's do, 'cause I'm with them to the end. Heart or no heart.'' she opened the door, held it with a steady hand 'Come on, he's waiting for you.'  
Amara stilled, her eyes widened, a look of horror creasing her face 'No!' a gasp.  
Thin lacerations sprouted over her her arms and cheeks. 'No!' she roared this time, barreling through the doors and slamming a fist in Chuck's unsuspecting gut.  
Dean was kneeling at god's feet, his arm outstretched, Temperance could see the familiar welt of red flesh where the Mark was taking place. 'Fuck.' she hurried over, catching Dean as he slumped 'Mother fucker!'  
'I will not go back there! I would die a million times! I would kill you a million times more! I will not go back in that prison!' Amara growled, her hand clawed before her, conjuring power that raised her brother into the air, he was trapped, shuddering and twitching as tendrils of darkness stabbed into his chest.  
She was chaos, she was death, she was amazing.   
Sam struggled to his feet, but the onslaught of magic sent him spinning back and crashing into the bar. As Temperance looked the Mark disappeared from Dean's skin and he stiffened in her arms. The spell was unfinished and gods power was waning.   
'Amara!' Chuck called, begging 'Please!'  
'No!' her voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. 'Why should I change when you refuse to!'   
Unrestrained, her violence gathered speed and sound, like a great tsunami it tore through the small space, crashing off the walls, prostrating the men. Temperance stood, shielding her eyes and struggled forward. She would not let her friends die like this, she could not let them die like this.   
'Amara.' she gasped over the din. Her hand found a shoulder in that flickering smoke and light, she squeezed it, gently.   
'Amara.' She gathered her to her chest, putting a hand in her soft curls to hold her close.   
The sound began to fade to an echo, the light flickering and flattening, until they all stood in the midday sunlight once more.   
'Its Ok.' Temperance soothed her. 'I'm here.'  
'Tem!' Dean called to her, and when she looked at him he shook his head. 'Can't you see, she can't be free, she can't stay here.'  
'No one deserves a cage, Winchester.' she answered, turning back to the angry, confused, powerhouse that was god's older sister. 'You know that.'  
God had fallen to the ground and was panting for breath, he didn't seem able to raise himself up. Somewhere, in the distance, there was a crash, and the sunlight suddenly dimmed. Like the universe had turned its lights off, a horrible chill permeated the air.   
God was dying, his Worlds were dying with him.   
Temperance paid him no mind, stepping carefully around him and leading the weeping Amara to a seat. 'Family.' she muttered. 'Even when you hate them, you still love them.'  
Sam was quick to get to his god's side, trying to help him, while Dean just looked on, in shock.   
'They tried to cage me again!' Amara cried. 'Again!'  
'I know.' Temperance took her hands, rubbing them gently. 'But they didn't.'  
'I've killed him.' her lips trembling. 'I killed my brother.'  
'No, not yet, he's still alive.' she spared the writhing figure a cool glance, then leaned in 'Amara, listen to me, please. There's still time to fix this. Put aside your anger for a minute, you love your brother, you need your brother. Has destroying his creations made you happy?'  
Her beautiful face crumpled into a frown. 'No.'  
'What would make you happy?'  
'What makes you happy?' she countered.  
Temperance felt a sigh on her lips, but took a minute to consider an answer. A long minute while reality suffered.   
She had been happy leaving Ireland with two scabby punks and a college drop out, when she bought a van in Cherbourg off two British drug smugglers, she had been happy making music and traveling, she had been happy with people and happy alone. She knew she had been happy, without the giant, pulsing, orb of her despair to taint all her memories she could remember being happy when John proposed, she had been happy when Sam told her that she was his sister and beyond happy, beyond blissful when she had opened her eyes to find Crowley stretched out naked in bed beside her. It could all be boiled down to one word, she had been happy when she was free to be.   
'Choices.' she said, hoping Amara understood her, after spending a week inside her mind. 'Being free, having a choice, that made me happy.'  
'I just want my brother to love me.' Amara gasped, in a sad voice, as tears began to pepper the countertop.   
'I do.' he struggled to say from the floor. 'Of course I do.'  
'No!' she slid down to the ground. 'No, you loved your stories more! Why couldn't you be happy when it was just the two of us! I hated you for needing something else, something that wasn't me!'  
'Oh, sister!' he pleaded, blood dripping thickly from his nose, sliding over his lips and clinging to his teeth. 'I never needed my worlds to be happy, you made me happy. I just wanted to create, to try and make something beautiful.'  
The sun had died in the sky, something ugly and bruised hung there now, the light in the bar was blood tinted and hard edged. In that light Dean Winchester reached for his brothers hand and held it tightly, then he looked at Temperance, ferocious and handsome, standing at the end of the world. She reached for his free hand, lacing her fingers between his.  
'This is it.' Sam whispered hoarsely.  
'Looks like.' she agreed, unable to be afraid. The earth shook beneath their feet.  
'I love you guys.' Dean said, tugging them close. 'I love you.'  
Sam hid his face in Dean's shoulder, Temperance rested her head against his chest and he held them in his strong, safe arms.  
'Amara.' Chuck gasped, 'Sister.'  
His hand struggled to hers, covering it weakly. Her eyes, wide with panic, softened, and she stretched out her long fingers to his chest. Radiant yellow light cascaded from those fingers, settling down on Chuck's chest rippling out to surround him.  
'What you've made.' she looked at the brothers, at Temperance, still linked together. 'It's beautiful.'  
Chuck smiled, a small laugh playing on his face, the light of his sisters power pouring into him, healing him. The world around them seemed to brighten, the bloody shadows receded and the sun burst into bloom in the sky. Sam and Dean ran to the window, laughing with relief, though Temperance stayed where she was.  
'The suns back!' Dean hollered.  
Amara raised her brother to his feet, taking his hand. 'Can we be family again?'  
'Yeah, I'd like that.' he said, shyly. 'Lets go somewhere a while, you and me.'  
Amara nodded, happily then looked at Temperance. 'You gave me my brother back, you helped me see what I needed. I have a gift for you.'  
'Its ok, I don't need anything.' She stuffed her hands into her pockets, she found John's lighter there and pulled it out to examine it.   
'You do need this.' Amara leaned in, slowly, and kissed her. Her hands on Temperance cheeks, she started off gentle before twinning her arms around the woman, crushing her and kissing her with an intensity that left Temperance's head swimming. They broke apart with a sigh.  
Amara went back to her brother and they flickered and vanished in a pulse of pink light, Temperance was on her knees, gasping, crying. A rush of over overwhelming emotion clouding her mind.  
'Tem?' Dean picked her up, shaking her by the shoulder 'You ok? That was pretty hot.'  
She shook her head, unable to speak. She could feel the warmth of Dean's fingers seeping into her skin and to her horror, she began to cry.   
'My heart.' she gasped, between sobs, clinging on to Dean with all her strength. 'She gave me my heart back.'

She cried until her head ached. She cried for Crowley, for the life he lead and all the things left undone. She wept out her bitter disappointment and tired to weep out her broken heart.  
She cried until she felt a bit embarrassed at herself.   
Dean was ashen faced against her, not sure what to do or where to look, patting her back every now and again. Sam had sank down beside them and put a broad hand on her shoulder, calm and cool until she managed to still the tears.  
'Tem?' Dean asked. 'What are you feeling?'  
'Everything.' her voice was croaky to her ears, she wiped the back of her hand over her face, patted her cheeks and looked up. Even kneeling down the men loomed over her.   
She straightened up, patting Dean's now irrevocably wrinkled top.   
'I know its hard, but can you explain to us whats going on with you?' Sam asked, kindly, rubbing soothing circles over her spine.  
'Right.' she organised her thoughts, stood and went to lean against the wall. She needed distance to speak, she needed fresh air.   
'So, I set myself up to die. I bound Amara in my mind, made a cage of myself to keep her, it, over in that world. I thought it would work. I can feel how wrong that was now, I mean, wrong the way cannibalism is wrong, wrong the way hurting kids is wrong. Its a shard of glass in my memory, I happily went against nature to do it. I killed an Archangel and fed its Grace and mine into a spell that I shouldn't have been able to do, shouldn't have been able to think of. Without a heart I could see the way to it.'  
'So you've got remorse over that now, you're feeling everything all at once?'  
She nodded, staving off further tears and pinching the bridge of her nose against a flare of another migraine. 'Remorse over doing it, and over it not working.'  
'I'm glad it didn't' Sam smiled. 'I mean, you're the only one who can get Dean to eat vegetables!'  
'Hey! Grown man.' he pouted 'Standing right here.'  
Sam was frowning thoughtfully now. 'You made yourself a cage?'  
'Yeah.' she touched her temples, feeling a throb in her blood pressure at the thought. 'It took everything I had, life, grace, sanity. All of it.'  
'Thats the type of magic that makes Lucifer's Cage hold.' Sam began to think out loud, tapping his fingers quickly together. 'I wonder.'  
Dean smacked the bar table, hard 'No.' he said, cutting off his brothers musing, 'No, we aint using Tem's Grace, soul, life, anything at all to get Lucifer in the Cage. No.'  
'I didn't mean that!' Sam tried to reassure them 'Sorry, I was just, uh, thinking out loud.'  
'Lets go home.' Temperance said. 'Please, lets go home.'  
In the car the atmosphere was solemn, they all felt the heavy pull of exhaustion settle over them, the world was saved, it was almost anti-climatic.   
'Tem?' Sam asked, turning to look over the seat.   
She dragged her eyes open, waiting. 'I want you to know, that I'm happy this happened. I am. I'm happy Lucifer talked Amara into bringing you back. I'm grateful to him.'  
'Me too.' Dean grunted. 'Cause if you didn't come back, I would have never gotten to tell you how proud I am of you. Of us, of all we have done. You saved the world, we saved the world, together.'  
Sam sat a little straighter, he smiled, down at his clasped hands 'I'm proud of us too and, I gotta say. Tem, you're amazing. You're strong and you're brave and I am proud that your part of my family.'  
Temperance breathed out a laugh, folded her arms and rolled her eyes in mock horror 'Lads, please, think of my street cred.'  
'What street cred!' Dean bounded up and elbowed her 'You're lame.'  
She put a hand to her heart, looking comically pained, but her face soon fell.  
'Listen, when I was dead, theres this place, a place outside of things. I could feel a host of dead power just shifting around there. It wasn't Heaven, or Hell, there was just nothing. I think its Amara's domain, her own thing outside gods universes.'  
'Yeah?” Sam frowned, puzzled. 'How does that even work?'  
'I don't know.' she closed her eyes, giving into sleep 'But its nice to know that gods are born somewhere.'


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Dean, you only get one mind, don't let it break. Don't fucking turn into me. Let me help you. You don't have to handle this on your own, its killing you.'  
> His eyes were bloodshot, she could smell whiskey and beer on his breath. He held onto her wrists, as if they were a lifeline. Her heart, still new, was breaking for him. She knew what he wanted and she couldn't give it to him........
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

They took simple cases, hauntings and infestations and things that shouldn't involve Heaven or Hell. Things that the boys had been raised on, and Temperance tried very hard not to fall back into her old ways. She made a point of eating, of exercising, of talking even when she didn't want to.   
Sam's gentle smiles of encouragement made it all, somehow, worthwhile. She thought, ruefully, that self-care might have something to it. It was in those few new weeks that she concentrated on growing, on ageing, trying to push herself closer to looking 30. After a week of it, she looked in the mirror, trying to find anything different about herself, any new angles, any lines or hairs.  
'Shit.' An hour of searching desperately, she looked on the soles of her feet, between each toe. 'Shit.'  
It wasn't working.   
A gentle flutter of wings, she was almost relieved that she could still hear it. She thought that sense had gone with her Grace.  
'Hello. Lucifer has turned against Michael.' Castiel spoke without preamble. 'Heaven is again in disorder.'  
'We saved the world from gods sister.' Temperance looked up from her feet 'I got my heart back, Sam is making headway with a hunter's manual that he's been writing and Dean painted the kitchen.'  
'Yes.' he hovered by the door, then walked towards her. 'I worry that you and the brothers will now be fighting a battle on two fronts.'  
'I assumed we always would be.' she pulled herself up off the bathroom floor. 'Have you told them about the Devil pulling a fast one?'  
'A fast which?'  
'A fast.' she shook her head 'Never mind.'  
'I have not yet informed Dean and Sam about this development, in truth, I have been avoiding them.'  
'Why?'  
'I have your Grace, I left them when they had need of me with the Darkness. I feel that they will be upset with me and I do not wish to face that.'  
'Very human of you.'  
'As I previously reasoned, being human has changed me.' he clasped his hands together, bowing his head solemnly.   
She led him to the main wing of the Bunker 'Well you're in time for a clear out, we've been moving stuff from the library all day.'  
'I cannot stay.' he stopped his feet, his neat shoes gleaming. 'I want to return your Grace to you.'  
'You need it.'  
'Yes, however, I feel once I have my own back that you will refuse me, all the same.'  
She shrugged, he wasn't exactly wrong about that. She didn't want it back, not if it made her a bigger target for what ever shit her father and the Devil were brewing.  
'Just, hold onto it, ok.' she patted his arm, awkwardly, avoiding his bare skin. 'I don't need it back, I don't want it back.'  
'You will need it.' he pressed. 'Once I can regain mine I will return it and you must accept it.'  
'Please, Castiel.' she wet her lips, played a line she wouldn't have usually crossed. 'Brother.'  
That did it, that word, his face filled with wonder and he turned fluidly towards her, hands out, gripping her elbows. She had a soft spot for this bastard, Dean's Angel, he was clever and kind and he tried to do good. She thought she might regret playing him, but not right then.  
'Keep it, with my blessing.'  
'Keep what?” Dean asked, dragging two heavy looking boxes down the hall. 'Wanna help me with this or what?'  
Castiel shook his head 'I must leave you.' and he was gone.  
'I'll help.' she picked up the box, feeling the weight against her skin. 'Oof, whats in these?'  
'All the books Sam wants to rewrite, he says they're 'factually incorrect.'.' Dean shook his head, dumping the last one on a pile in the storage room. 'So, keep what?'  
She ran through her options, quickly. 'My Grace' she settled on the truth.  
Dean seemed to deflate before to her, she took his arm and pulled him onto the sofa, he had that far away look in his eyes, the one that he tried to build around his pain.   
'He needs it more than me right now.' she explained. 'He can't be human, he's not able for it.'  
'And you can, all of a sudden?'  
'I think I'd be a little more human with it. Oddly enough. Its strange, I know its gone, but its not harming me the way loosing my heart did. I can function without it, I'm used to it, I hid it away for so long that this is second nature to me.'  
'I don't want you to tear yourself up for us.' he was scowling now, not meeting her eyes.  
'Well, its my decision. I didn't do it for you or because of you, you don't have any reason to feel guilty.'  
'Why was Cas here, just to tell you about your Grace?'  
'Oh, no, Lucifer bailed on Michael, his not helping him anymore.'  
'Great' he grunted 'So our one big problem is now two big problems.'  
'Could be worse.'  
'How!' he spun around throwing his arms up and marching away 'How could it be worse!'  
She made no move to follow, but she thought that it could be much worse, they could all be dead, the world could have ended. She didn't think he would appreciate her outlook so she left him alone.

A cake walk of a case brought them north, towards Washington, the leaves were turning golden on the trees and frost settled on the car in the morning. Sam had opted to stay home, waving them off from behind his books.  
Dean let Temperance sit up front, refused to let her pick the music and spent most of the drive lecturing her about something to do with steel guitars. A familiar song made her head shoot up, from where it had dropped to her chest in a dose.   
'No.'  
'What?' Dean asked, looking briefly in the mirror, then to her face.   
'Is this your classic rock station?'  
'Duh.' he rolled his eyes, smirking. 'Oh, hold up, this is GBH! Ha! You like a classic!'  
'Fuck off, its punk!' she groaned. 'Shit, when did I get old?'  
'You're the same age as Sam!' Dean chortled, raising the volume so the old speaker throbbed.  
'Yes, very young.'  
'Thirty six!' he laughed. 'Oh, shit, that means I'm 40 in a couple of months.'  
'Don't worry, you're looking well.'  
'I'm going for the silver fox thing.' he snorted. 'Man, when did that happen?'  
'The past few years galloped by.' she shrugged. 'Time flies.'  
'When you're fighting to forces of evil.' he took a turn off to a busy main road. 'Wanna get lunch, Dr. Moore?' the pseudonym rolling with ease off his tongue.  
'Sounds good Agent Templar .' she smirked, but the smirk drifted off.  
'I tried to age up my body.'  
'Tried?' he pulled off the interstate, merging with the traffic.  
'It didn't work, I can't do it anymore.'  
'Oh.' he frowned, a complex series of emotions flashed on his face, too quick for her to catch then he said, with a winning smile 'Hey, hot young thing forever! Aint that the dream?'  
They sat in a mon-n-pop cafe near a bustling shopping street. Dean got a giant pot of seafood stew with crabs and refused to speak until he had finished it all.  
Then flicked through Sam's notes, munching on clams. 'Its probably over kill, two of us being here.'  
'Nice to get out of the house.' Temperance said, paying the bill and searching for a hotel on her phone. 'Theres a nice place a few blocks East.'  
'Woah! We can't afford that!' he said, glancing down 'Unless you boosted a new credit card without me?'  
'I can.' she shrugged 'It only occurred to me the other day that, well, Gus is dead and I have all his account details.'  
'Ill gotten gains?' Dean frowned as they hurried into the rain to get the hotel.   
'Capitalism, baby.' she winked, waltzing through the glass hotel doors to check them in.   
It turned out to be a rouge poltergeist, and Dean dispatched it without trouble.   
They were having dinner in the hotel restaurant, laughing when things began to sour.

Dean was midway through a thick slice of chocolate tart when something seemed to tickle his memory.  
'Whats up?” she asked, finishing off her beer.  
'The last poltergeist I saw was with John.' he said, pushing the pastry away and reached for his coffee. It had been poured from a fancy silver pot into a tiny cup, it looked comically small in his hands. 'He, well, I'm just thinking of some stuff he said.'  
She saw him shut her out and didn't try to pry his thoughts from him, they took the elevator in silence to the 8th floor. They had adjoining rooms, and shared a bathroom, she left him with a wave. He barely seemed to notice.  
A crashing sound woke her up, she dove for the door, her knife strapped to her leg even in sleep and kicked through. It took her a wild minute to see what was in front of her.  
Dean was sitting on the floor, among the wreckage of his table, chair, mirror and bedding. A bottle, or several, had been smashed against the wall and an ugly painting of a fish hung drunkenly from its chain.  
'Dean?'  
His shoulders shook with sobs, he tried to get up, but just managed to sprawl in the ruin.  
'Whats happening.' she crouched by the door, watching him with trepidation.   
He wrapped his arms tightly around his own knees, not speaking, the shaking seemed to grow, racking through him from head to toe.   
'I'm no good.' he managed, coughing up the words.  
She blinked, a thousand thoughts whipping through her head and none of them useful. What do you say when someone is falling apart. What had she wanted to hear when she had fallen apart.   
'Yes you are.' she winced at the saccharine sweet tone she had used. He didn't seem to hear, at least, the first words he had spoken unleashed a torrent.  
'I wish I couldn't feel anything.' he was weeping, hugging his knees in the middle of the wreckage, lost and small. There was a broken bottle in his fist, blood pooling on the shards of glass. 'I cant stand it anymore. I'm past saving. My dad is dead because of me, I sentenced my own father to Hell, I destroyed you, I let Cas loose his grace. I've damned my baby brother, I dragged him back into this life when he and the chance to be normal. I'm poison, I'm worthless.'  
She moved forward and knelt down in front of him, put her hands on his arms.  
'I deserve worse than dying. I deserve so much worse.' he sobbed, brokenly.  
'You saved the world Dean.'  
'I fucked it up enough and managed to fix it! That aint right!' his face buried in his jeans, his body was shaking with his sobs.  
He wailed, he seemed to have a lifetime of tears built up inside his chest. She opened her arms, wordlessly, and he fell into them, sobbing into her chest.   
'All I can think about is how much this cost us! I'm so tired of fighting. I don't feel alive, Im just going through the motions.' His low voice was pain laced and cracking on each word. It was a voice that belonged in Hell, it was tormented and dying and she wanted it to stop. It wasn't Dean.  
'You don't see yourself.' she said, rushing to anchor him. Glass and splintered wood bit into her skin.  
'You don't see how good you are, how wonderful you are. You're a good person Dean, you're worth saving and I will do anything to save you. You saved me, you didn't ruin me. You gave everything to keep your brother safe and he is alive because of you. You're not poison, you're not.'  
He just shook his head, unable to reply. She took a breath, put herself in his position, in her head. He had the weight of the world on his shoulders, he always had. He had been the first born child of a hunting family, always the older brother, the one that had to grow up and take responsibility. The world had gone to shit on his watch and he hated himself for it.  
'You haven't tricked me into believing that.' she went on, knowing where he was, having been there herself for so long. 'I see you, Dean, I know you, you're worth everything. Believe me.'  
'I lied to you plenty of times.' he muttered 'I wasn't even sorry for most of it. I don't believe in a damn thing. I can't, I just cant.'  
'Listen.' she grabbed his hand and pressed it to her heart.   
'You feel that? You know why Amara gave it back to me? Because of you. She asked me why I cared, why I was trying to help her and god and I said it was because of you. She gave me my heart back because even without one I knew how good yours was.'  
'It aint' he pulled his hand away  
'I aint good, I'm nothing, I'm no one. Sooner or later everyone's gonna leave me, I'm a freak.'  
'You're my friend, you're my family. You're Dean fucking Winchester/ You're the best fucking hunter I've ever heard of, you're not a freak. You're a hero. You're strong, stronger than anything.'  
'No, not this.' tears were welling in his eyes again, he grabbed her, holding on tightly and dropped his head back to his knees. 'I'm a fucking gun, I'm a grunt, a blunt instrument. I aint good for anything and I can't keep going.'  
'Stop that! Don't you dare sat that. You're a four star fucking general, you're a mother fucking king, Dean. Dean.' she kissed the top of his head, soothing his trembling as best she could.   
'You make difficult decisions, decisions that no one should ever have to make and you never ask for anyone else to shoulder the burden. You want to save everyone and you're hurting yourself by doing it.'  
He stilled, a little, and she pulled his face up. His eyes had seen too much, green and glowing. 'Dean, you only get one mind, don't let it break. Don't fucking turn into me. Let me help you. You don't have to handle this on your own, its killing you.'  
His eyes were bloodshot, she could smell whiskey and beer on his breath. He held onto her wrists, as if they were a lifeline. Her heart, still new, was breaking for him. She knew what he wanted and she couldn't give it to him. She pulled him to his feet, holding him close.   
'I will be here for you, always. Sam will be here for you, Castiel will be here for you. You're not alone.'  
'Thank you.' he managed.  
Just kiss him, something inside her shouted, do it. It wouldn't be right, it would be a lie and it would crush him, no, don't kiss him. Just because he wants it, doesn't make it right.  
She led him to her room, put him kindly into her bed and held him.   
'Tem, how do I get back from this? I'm almost 40 and what have I done, nothing, I'm a fuck up!'  
'Hush. You get back a little more each day, until one morning you get up and its not a struggle to breath. It takes a long time to walk out of those woods and, Dean, I am here for you, every step of the way.'  
He smiled, weakly, shrugging her off. 'Not very punk-rock.' he said, with a stab at his usual bravado.  
'It's punk if I do it.' she said, smoothing down his hair and letting him fall into a deep sleep.

Somedays were better than others, some minutes better than the last or the next, but he was less burdened by it. Temperance could tell by the way he held himself, by the ease of which he spoke about it. He was putting himself back together with bad tools though, she wasn't a shrink, she fucking needed a shrink, and Sam was not much better. For all that he seemed ironed out on the surface he was fucked up too, his white knuckled self control made him hold on, somehow, but it didn't mean that he was well.   
Sam was regimental in his daily tasks, the exercise, the food, the research, and he never slipped. He projected an air of control that his brother seemed to buy, but Temperance didn't. She knew he slept with his clothes on, a gun under his pillow, a go bag by his feet. He was waiting for disaster, every second of the day.  
Temperance didn't think she could save both of them and, if she was honest, she didn't think she could save one of them. She needed to save herself still, it was easy to pretend she wasn't a boiling mass of raw nerves and grief when Dean professed to needing her, but she knew that she was going back to a dark place inside her head.  
What they needed was a functioning adult, she reasoned, drinking in the shower to avoid drinking in her bedroom. She emptied the beer with a long swallow and crushed the can in her fist. She closed her eyes, feeling the water move over her skin. She had fucked John in this shower.  
She shook her head, pressed her fingers to her eyes, this was not a train of through she wanted to continue down on. She didn't want to think about his body, or his stained smile. Thinking about that gave her a case of the what-ifs. What if he had survived, what if they had married. She hated the what-ifs, they didn't help, it felt too much like regret.  
Forcing a comb through her hair and scrubbing her teeth until her gums were raw didn't banish those thoughts though, and soon they turned to Crowley.  
He had known her better than she knew herself, she had given him all the tools to be her fucking soulmate, after all. She didn't know how to grieve for him, she was still angry at him for the way that he died.  
She took her backpack with her when she left the Bunker, walking out into the night to clear her head with half a bottle of Dean's bourbon and a packet of Sam's lentil puffs. The moonlight was weak, a grey thumbnail paring hanging high in the sky, it gave barely any light and soon it was lost behind the clouds. 

When John had died she knew where to find him, he went to Heaven and she made sure he was there. Crowley had died long ago in Scotland, alone, now he had died again a world away.  
The town had changed, there was a university there now and the suburbs and motorway had gobbled up the forest, the wall on the northern side had survived, a few streets had survived, but where Fergus MacLeod had lived there was a lane way, half barred by a security gate, overgrown with weeds and choked with litter. Squinting in the gloom she could see the closed loading bay of a supermarket beyond the chainlink fence. The walls were covered in graffiti and piss and a rat scuttled ahead of her.  
His grave had decayed, strange to think of his bones once lying beneath that soil, bones she knew, a body that she had felt against hers. He wasn't here, he had never been here.

The house in Sardinia was exactly how they had left it, fruit had rotted on the countertop, a pink bikini lay crumpled on the bedroom floor. She opened the wardrobe, ran her hands down the garment bags. He was almost here, part of him was here, in the extravagance.  
She chose an evening gown, hair-fine straps, backless and blue, but left her boots on, stuffing her jeans and shirt into her backpack.  
How do you mourn someone who is so thoroughly gone, gone somewhere you can never follow, that its like they never existed. He had asked her, she remembered, to go somewhere. To go to Iceland, he told her to fly economy, drink tiny cans of warm beer. He wouldn't be there though, he was only in her head now, in her memories.  
Her phone rang, she dug it out of her bag, brushing pink sand off her hands.   
'Where are you?”  
'Hi, Dean. I'll be home in a few minutes.'  
'As in you aint here now?'  
'Sardinia.'  
There was a silence on the other end of the line, she walked back up to the house, after a moment he said 'Ok, well, um, be home soon.'  
'Yes.' she hung up, pulled the patio doors shut. The office was empty, the glass desk bare of any ornament. She was ready to leave, when it occurred to her that Crowley must have planned this, must have left something. Given her some sort of closure.   
He was so careful, it didn't seem right that he would have left her as he did.  
There was a photo here, she wanted to take it with her. She climbed onto the unmade bed and freed the photograph from the wall.  
Had she ever looked that young, eighteen and free. Had she really not known that he loved her, because it was so glaringly obvious now. She turned the frame over her in hands, scrawled across the back in a a handwriting she would know anywhere, was two words. She blinked, processing it, mind racing.  
'There you are.' she said, smiling and she snapped her fingers and went home.  
Radio Ethiopia, it was a reprint and she had had it for so long that the glossy black text was fading. She opened the record case, the card was thin and greasy from years of travel, snuggled next to the vinyl was a sheet of creased velum.  
She had expected a note, maybe a will, not this.  
'Son of a Witch.' she laughed. 'You fucking genius.'  
'Talking to yourself?' Sam knocked on the open door. 'Nice dress.'  
'Thanks.' she tapped him on the chest with the vellum. 'I'm trying something new.'  
This would be a thing to keep, she decided, they had another problem to solve first.

'Where you going?' Dean took in her gown with an appreciative wiggle of his brows, crooking his finger to get her to twirl.  
She did, into a chair with a flourish. 'Do you like it?'  
'Crowley?' he set down a six pack of beer on the table.  
'Of course, I have fucking taste, I'd never buy this.'  
'Why are you wearing it?'  
'I'm having a funeral for him, in my head.'  
Dean considered this and walked to the pantry, returning with a half empty bottle of Crowley's preferred Craig. He poured two healthy measures and raised his glass in a silent toast. 'Can't believe that I miss him.'  
'He'd be thrilled to hear it. He liked you.'  
'Huh.' he tore open a packet of jerky and chewed on a strip, staring into his glass.  
She was working up the courage to convince him about something. 'Tell me about your dad, and about Bobby Singer, I never really asked about him. 'Id like to know.'  
'What? Why?'  
'Humour me.'  
'Bobby was like a dad to us, better in some ways. He taught us the con, you know, acting as FBI agents, all the good stuff and he knew all the lore too. That man was a powerhouse.'  
How did he die?  
'Got shot, ended up in Hell through a whole Crowley related fuck up, Sam freed his soul. Um, you remember that, as part of the Trails.'  
'Oh feck, yeah. The Trials to close the Gates of Hell.' she shuddered.  
'He knew Crowley, uh, had dealings with him.' he shrugged. 'Um, we went to Scotland, to where he was buried, once.'  
'Its a nice town.' she took a drink 'Actually, no its not, its grim and depressing and could use some industry.'  
'Did you know he had a son?'  
'Gavin, yeah, poor kid. Gus hated him, it was sad really. I don't know what happened to him.'  
'He came here, to the States, sailed over as a ships captain. Bobby summoned his spirit to blackmail Crowley!' he chuckled, fondly.  
'And, your Dad? What was the famous John Winchester like?'  
'He was a dick.' he tore at another strip of jerky, and ugly look on his face.   
'He was a dick, between him and Cain I don't know who was the Worst Father of the Year.'  
'Dad once drowned my puppy, which he had bought me to teach me responsibility or some shit.' she shook her head 'That was fucking traumatising.'  
'Christ.' Dean poured more whiskey. 'Ok, well, my Dad was just regular bad then.'  
'I can tell, by the car and music.'  
'Hey!' he slapped her arm, suddenly playful, beaming a smile at her. 'When are you gonna admit that you love my music and your jealous of my car? Honey, you know I might let you drive it again if your good.'  
She laughed at that, not believing it for a second 'Me drive your baby? Me of the clutch foot and floating gears fame?'  
He pulled a face, winching slightly 'I had almost forgotten about how bad your Colt was before your mom totalled it.'  
'It drove!' she scoffed 'Not uphill, or particularly fast, mind you.'  
'My dad would have liked that car.' he smiled 'It had that nice hunched over the wheels feel, it hunkered down on the road.'  
She let the silence stretch a moment, met his gaze with a question in hers. He sighed, sliding down on the bench. '  
I know.'  
'The Cage is open, Dean, we could go and free him.'  
'If theres anything left. Which, I doubt there is.'  
How could she say, without sounding horrifically selfish, that she needed Dean to agree to this, because she needed him to have one less guilty thought in his head. She poured him the last of the Craig, wrinkling her nose at it.   
'I hate this stuff, you know that, it tastes like paint-stripper was sitting near a turf fire for too long. Its weird and smokey and bitter, and worst of all.'  
He cut her off, with a sharp laugh. 'Its scotch, I know, jeez how many times I gotta hear this speech.'  
'Its scotch!' she rolled on, ignoring him 'Scotch offends my sensibilities, Whiskey is spelled with and 'e' and is only palatable if made, lovingly by alcoholic old men, in Ireland.'  
'Bushmills, Paddy, Jameson.'  
'Teelings, Dingle, Powers.' she nodded along, counting off brewers on her fingers. 'This stuff, this putrid shit, this is Gus all over. Its expensive and overly complex, and its brewed from the water he grew up on.' she knocked the last drop back, shuddering, and reached for a beer. 'But I'm drinking it.'  
'To remember him by?'  
'To spite him.' she passed him a bottle. 'He knew I didn't appreciate the finer things, not that this is fine in any sense, it annoyed him when I wouldn't take care of the nice clothes he bought, or pay attention at the theatre. He liked being annoyed by it though, he liked that I was me and that there was nothing he could do to change it. I'm drinking the last of his whiskey, I'm wearing the last of the dresses and I'm forgiving him, because in the end he was himself. Thats all any of us can hope for.'  
Dean sipped his beer, picking idly at the label.   
'If anyone, anyone, could get my dad back for me, I'd jump on the chance. He was the worst dad imaginable, but he was mine.' She spun the bottle cap on the end of her finger 'Your dad's soul is in Hell, where it shouldn't be, because no matter how crap he was at being a father he was a Hunter. Hunters go to heaven, its part of the deal.'  
'He went body and soul into that Cage.' Dean whispered 'If he aint crazy, he's dead and if he aint dead he might be a Demon.'  
'He's still your dad, he loved you both beyond anything, thats why he went to Hell for Sam. We can save him, its what we do.'  
'And if he's evil? What then?'  
'Whats your line?' she drank more of her beer. 'Saving people, hunting things? You saved me when I was a Demon.'   
He finished his drink, got up, put the empty in the sink then slowly sat back down. His boots squeaked on the Lino and he dragged himself back to her.  
'He, our dad.' Dean was lost for words, and she reached out a hand to squeeze his fingers, feeling the warmth and strength of his hand.  
'I want him back so much, Tem, so much, but he sacrificed himself for Sam and I can't bare to face him with all the shit we've cooked up.'  
'Fuck it. So what if he's mad, not like he's gonna want to go back to the Cage to spite you.' she reasoned with her usual blunt edge. She palmed another bottle and passed it to him, he opened it with his ring, it fizzed a little over the lip and he hurried to sip away the foam before it rolled down the sides.   
'Would you go to Hell, for my dad?'  
'Honey, I'd go to Hell for anyone, I like it there.' she noticed how he tried to hide a grimace and added, with what she hoped was enough conviction to convince him . 'I'll do it, I want to do it.'

Sam had a wealth on knowledge on the Cage, but he was uncomfortable sharing it, he spread it out over a few days, and was tense all the while.   
'How do we get Tem there?' Dean asked, all business now that they had a goal to work towards.  
'Ok, yeah, first can we talk about what to do with dads soul if we get it?' Sam begged. 'Can we look at this from all angles before diving right in.'  
Temperance took pity on him. 'A Witch could put a soul into a body, a powerful one. A necromancer.'  
'Do we know any?' Dean wasn't happy about being sidetracked and he scowled at her.  
'A few, not very well. Sam is right though, once we have it we need to know what to do with it. It wont be safe just hanging around, it will need a host or to go to Heaven.'  
'Cas!' Dean called, there was no reply, so be bowed his head and joined his hands. 'Now I lay me down to sleep I pray to Castiel to get his feathery ass down here!'  
Nothing happened.  
'Maybe he's busy?' Temperance offered with a shrug.  
'We can't put dad in Heaven.' Sam pointed out 'Not now, Michael might try and use him against us.'  
They all looked at each other, exasperated, until Temperance spoke.  
'What if we made a box for it, a warded thing to keep it in. Something to could ensure it wont get fucked with while we sort out Heaven?' she paused 'Assuming we are sorting out Heaven?'  
'What kinda wards?' Sam pulled out his notebook, flicking through the crumpled pages. 'We know that hybrid blood can be used for that, how do we make a case out of it, and is that enough against the Devil?'  
She saw Dean smile as Sam took to his task, he liked solving problems, teasing out puzzles and this was a big one.  
Dean jerked his head towards the door, catching her eye, and they left Sam to it.   
'While he's doing that we need to talk about what you need to stay safe.'  
'Safe, in Hell?' she raised a brow at that.   
'Yeah, what are we arming you with and whats the extraction process, we gotta go through this. I don't think we're gonna get a second chance, once Lucifer knows what we're up to he's gonna stop us.'  
She couldn't fault his logic and let him lead her down the garage, if Sam's safe space was the library, this was Dean's. She sat on the tool chest, watching him pace. He rolled his sleeves up over the elbow and clapped his hands together, planning.   
'Ok, your Knife, maybe the Colt with some juiced up bullets.' he mused 'I can do you some salt knuckle dusters, but we gotta think big, this is the Devil we are talking about. Not just some Demon.'  
She couldn't help but smile at him, her lips seemed to widen of their own accord and he stopped dead when he noticed.  
'What?' he asked, self consciously.   
'I am very lucky to have you in my life.'  
He blushed, then turned his face away quickly 'I'm awesome.' he said, but there was a little tremor in his voice when he spoke,   
'I've got my leather jacket.' she said 'Gus made it, it has a little bit of protection.'  
'Good, thats good.' he said, distractedly. 'Ok, so, all that, but what else do we need?'  
'Exit strategy. I wouldn't mind a nice rescue mission.' she pulled her legs up and watched him.  
'We need to set up something, a relay, a rendezvous. We need failsafes for this.' he opened the weapons case in the Impala, running his hands over his shotgun, his axe, and various knives as he thought. 'Walkie talkies?”  
'They had 5G down there when Gus was in charge.' she reasoned, tapping her pocket and realising she didn't know where her phone was. Dean caught that and smirked,  
'So, like I said, walkie talkies.' his eyes flicked over her necklace. 'Um, do you know how Crowley tracked you with that?'  
'No.' She took off the emerald and threw it to him. 'You work it out, I'm going to a walk.'  
'A walk?' he glanced out the door. 'Its raining.'  
'Grand, soft day as my cello teacher would say.' she ducked under the rolling door and went out into the drizzle.

Dean shook his head, puzzling over the necklace. 'Hey Sam?' he called 'How do we track this thing?'   
He found Sam in his room, flicking through books and tapped on the door to get his attention.  
'Sammy?'  
'Huh, sorry, did you call?'  
He held up the necklace 'This thing, Crowley could track it.'  
'Let me see?' the stone glowed with its own light, sparkling in his hand. 'Hmm, maybe it has a specific energy signature, or he might have had a matching one.' the tall man walked with his head bent to his palm muttering to himself. Dean sat on the bed, opening his laptop and flicking through TV shows they hadn't watched yet. He selected one about motorbike restoration while Sam worked, but his heart wasn't in it.  
He kept thinking about his dad. When he was a kid he left Sammy alone to go hang out with his friends and play video games, his dad never forgave him after that. He had been disappointed in him and that had never changed. Dean had to admit it hurt, it did hurt, he had never fought against being raised as a Hunter, he had admired his dad for it, but John always found fault with him. His last words to Dean had sounded hollow, false, he had said he was proud of him and that he, John, had made Dean grow up too fast. Bullshit, he was settling his own conscience, trying to walk into Hell without regrets, leaving behind good memories.   
His mind did a little double take, an unwelcome comparison. Temperance never had regrets, not for long, she would walk into Hell and never try and make him feel better about any shit that had gone down between them before, she would own it, all of it.   
He looked up at Sam, glad he couldn't read his mind right then, because it was all over the place.   
'Any luck?' he grunted.  
Sam was frowning, he had put down the pendant and was looking at it with distaste. 'I don't wanna tell Tem.'  
'What, it can't be that bad?' Dean bounded off the bed and stooped down over the desk. It looked innocent enough, a long, thin, gold chain, a green stone.   
'You know how Demon's communicate, with bowls of blood?'  
'Yeah?'  
'The stone, the chain, the whole thing, its bathed in his blood. It was like an open channel to him at all times.'  
'Oh, fuck.' Dean made a face. 'Thats fucked up. Man, he had trust issues.'  
Sam poked the necklace with the end of his pen. 'I'm not telling her that.'  
'Me neither.' Dean made a face 'But we could suggest it? As a way to keep tabs on her in Hell for the mission.'  
'She wont go for that! Hell, theres no way to undo it once its done, you want to hear her every second of everyday for the rest of your life? It would drive a human mad!'  
'What if it was Cas?' he ran through the options quickly in his head. 'Its like prayer and he could turn it off after.'  
Sam considered it, he put his hands together 'Dear Cas, can we talk?' he said aloud.   
Temperance appeared around the door. 'Whats going on?'  
'We're trying to get a hold of Cas.' Sam explained.  
'Have you tired texting him?'  
Dean shot a bemused look at her, then took out his phone, sending a quick message.   
In a rush the Angel appeared beside them. 'Hello.'  
'You not answering the Holy Radio anymore?'  
'I have remained off its grid for my own safety.' his usual stiffness was back, he carefully held his hands by his side.  
'How is it going? Temperance asked.   
Dean was a little curious to see that she reached out to touch him, taking his elbow and pulling him slightly aside. She turned her body towards him, giving the Angel her attention.   
'Not well.' he sighed 'Sister I cannot take strength from Heaven, there is blood on its holy floors. Angel has turned against Angel, Micheal is killing anyone who stands in his way. It is more calamitous then Hell during its Civil Wars.'  
'Shit one.' she gave him a small, reassuring smile. 'Why not stay here for a bit, stay safe.'  
He patted her hand, Temperance winced at the contact of their bare skin, and Castiel turned his face back to the brothers   
'You said you had a need of me.' this was addressed to Dean.  
A little shamefaced he mumbled out the plan, then added 'What do you think? Is it a bad idea?'  
Is Castiel was pleased to be asked for his opinion he made no comment on it.  
'I will consent to this, it would be a relief to know that Temperance could reach me, when in dire need.'  
'When she's not up to praying?' Dean joked.   
'I cannot hear Demons.'  
'Yeah, but she's.' he trailed off. 'Oh, right, ok.'  
Temperance cleared her throat in the strained silence that settled between them.  
'My blood.' Castiel held out a vial that had magically filled itself. 'Always happy to bleed for the Winchesters.' then he vanished.  
'Was that sarcasm?” The brothers shared a look and Temperance managed a small smile. 'Lets do this, so.'  
'You don't mind?'  
'Well, its weird, but Castiel isn't going to be weird about it. So I'm ok with it as long as he is.'  
The ritual was complete, she slipped the necklace back over her head and closed her fist around it. 'You know, its really the nicest thing he's ever given me.'  
'Never had you pegged for sparkles.' Dean turned away, incase she read something in his face.  
'Not my thing at all, but I felt different about this.' she turned away on silent feet, but stopped at the corridor 'You need to be friendly to Cas, ask him about his day and stuff, he must be in a strange place at the moment.'  
'What?' he looked around sharply, but she was gone. Sam was looking thoughtfully down at his brother.  
'We do kinda take him for granted.' he admitted.  
'Well hold on till I make him a friendship bracelet and invite him for a slumber party!' Dean snorted.

'Operation Daddy Daycare.' Temperance knew she did deadpan very well and she employed this now, raising her eyes to the brothers. 'You named the mission.'  
'Dean did.' Sam clarified, handing over a set knuckle dusters tipped with of rock salt. 'Got your knife?'  
She patted the sheath on her back, holstered the strange cowboy gun that they insisted on and examined the box they had made. Sam had enchanted it to hold a soul and lacquered it in a mix of his and Dean's blood. 'So go get it, and come back and put it in there. Thats it. Easy.'  
'Yeah, you just gotta get into the Dead Centre of Hell first.' Dean spoke, tersely. He was tense, she thought it was because he wasn't coming along.  
'Easy peasy.' she touched her necklace, knowing that Castiel was listening in. 'I'm going, see you later.'  
'Later.' Sam answered, more gruffly than he needed to.  
She walked out into the midday sun, Dean on her heels. 'Take care, ok.' he said.  
She spun around and dragged herself through reality, to Hell. Something clicked, she looked around, she had materialised in a long hallway, near the throne room. 'Shit.' her necklace was gone and she realised with a groan that it must now be too holy to enter Hell. She hoped it had stayed on the grass where she had left, and not been destroyed. She was fond of it.

The Dead Centre was not in the middle of Hell, rather it was in a place all of its own, but you had to be in Hell to reach that strange, horrifying place.  
She moved quickly, feeling her way through the palace complex and out into the plains. Demon's spawned here, in the shadows, in the thoughts of the most twisted of Humans and the most fearful of children.   
She kept her knuckles on and eased her knife in its sheath, moving quickly from cover to cover across the open space until she had gained the shadow of a pillar like rock. It was as smooth as glass and bleeding thin red blood onto the grey soil.  
She tried not to leave an obvious trail, unsure what would see her. At least she smelled like a Demon now, that was something, it kept the more curious beasties away. There was a yawning void before her, the air around it felt solid and she had to push her body through to reach the opening.  
Her feet were suddenly not on the ground, blood was thundering in her ears and her was sucked upwards, inwards, away from where she had been. Panting, her boots slammed into rock, and she breathed in great lungfuls of hot, metallic, air.   
She was in the Centre, there was a huge cube shaped cage hanging above and below nothing, suspended from the rock by dozens of wrist thick chains. A small pinnacle of rock reached out to an opening in the structure.   
She approached this, carefully, halfway across a shadow moved int he door. A figure, a man-like one, peeled itself from the gloom and began to pace.  
'John Winchester?'  
The floor of the cage seemed to be woven of fire and ice, a massive sigil, perhaps a boundary ward, glowed as she approached.  
She sat down crosslegged at the door. His head came up, a glint of insanity in his incorporeal eyes. 'You don't know me.' she said in the softest voice she could manage. 'I know your sons, they sent me.'  
'Sons?' his voice was rough. Now that she could see him she was shocked by how much he looked like them, it was Dean's face, older and longer, with Sam's dark colouring. His hair was flecked with grey, and his scruffy beard hid a strong jaw.  
'Dean and Sam.' she paused, waiting for recognition. 'Winchester.'  
He dropped his eyes down to her empty hands, then back to her face. 'Why?'  
'To take you home.' she pulled on her power, feeling it well up strong and violent as her Demon half felt the call of home. 'Come with me, please.'  
He examined her outstretched hand, pacing slowly forward, a sway in his walk, a predator. She expected it, but didn't like when he grabbed ahold and tried to pull her in. Immovable she rolled her eyes and jerked him over the wards. The shape of a mans body shrank into a pulsing orb, glowing with a grey light. She pulled the heavy soul from that blasted place in Hell and walked out.  
'Well, he's crazy.' she decided, hurrying back to the Mountains of Madness, where she had come in. Something lumbered up into the sky from the plain, she waited until its shadow was gone before returning to the palace. She could only reach Earth from there, the closest point in Hell to Reality.  
Her footsteps echoed. She felt things watching her. It was different to be here without Crowley, without his power there to have her back. Not that she needed it, she told herself, she could take care of herself. Though there was something less welcoming, less homely, less familiar about it, for all that her Demon side rejoiced in it. There seemed to be no beasties at all near by, at least.  
'Well, hey!'  
'Ah, shit.' almost no beasties, she corrected herself.   
Lucifer poked his head from around a pillar. 'Nice of you to drop by.' he smiled, briefly, at the soul in her hand. 'Ah, shucks, you weren't coming to visit.'  
'No.'  
'You look different, hmm.' he paused, sniffed the air around her 'Oh! Wow! You're a lot less interesting now, aintcha, what happened to your wings?'  
'Traded them in for an international data plan.' she said, blandly. She wasn't sure how to get passed him, she couldn't leave from here, it was too close to the middle, to deep underneath reality. She had her knife, but that wouldn't stop him. She decided to brazen it out, channelling her inner Crowley, her inner John Constantine, the brave part of herself.  
When she took her first steps and he didn't pounce she let her shoulders relax a bit and walked towards him.   
'You gotta rush off without stopping for a chat?' he asked, tapping his nails on the stone.  
'Sorry, so busy, must be going.'  
'You know, stealing is wrong.' he teased, scraping the rock, a spine shuddering screech echoed around them.  
'I'm not stealing anything.' she said, rolling her neck to ease the shudder.  
He laughed and tugged her viciously against the wall, leaning intimately over her, blocking her in with his arms.  
'Look at it again.' he said and she did.  
'Oh.' She threw the orb aside, watching it shatter 'Clever.'  
It wasn't a soul, it was a decoy, a spell, a piece of a demon and a nice bit of glasswork.  
'Only lasts in the Centre.' he explained 'A nice piece of bait in my nice little trap. And you fell for it. Now, I've got you here, what am I gonna do with you.'  
'I'm not threatened by you.' she tried to sound disdainful.   
'I know.' he pouted, stroking her jaw. 'It's really bugging me.'  
His voice was a murmur, a low sound, pitched just for her ears. 'Who took it from you, hon, I'll rip them apart if you want.'  
'I gave it away, no one takes. Not from me.' she glared, putting the flat of her hand to his chest and pushing him out of her space. 'I'm going home now, k?'  
'Not 'k'.' he scoffed, following her. She tried not to care that the Devil was on her heels, she took the spiralling corridor that led up towards the Throne room with the itch of his eyes in between her shoulder blades.   
'Amara locked me up here, I can't leave, not in this vessel.'  
'Well you can't have mine.' she said, moving forward, one foot in front of the other, she told herself, just keep going.  
He dropped the solid bar of his forearm in front of her, blocking her exit. The Throne room was mere inches away and she scrunched up her face, ready to make a run for it. She could feel his anger, like a physical thing.  
'Who has it?” he spat, bringing his face level with hers.  
She met his gaze, then kicked herself. 'Fuck!'  
'Hmm.' he said, rubbing his chin 'I see.'  
She wasn't protected, he could read her mind, it was there right at the forefront of her thoughts, exactly where he could see, if he choose to look, and he had. She had to get out, she had to warn Castiel.  
'I gave it to him.' she pulled out the knife, handle to her chest, elbow out. 'It was mine to give and I did, so don't fucking touch him!'  
'Kid' he chuckled, turning away. 'You don't have a hold on me anymore.'  
He was gone, as swiftly as he had appeared.  
'Shit, fuck, tits!' she hurried forward and threw herself into the nothingness between the planes, popping back, with a crash, into the Bunker garage.  
Sam bounded over to her, wide hopeful eyes on her empty hands. She shook her head.  
'It was a trap.' she managed 'Cas!'  
Dean was there, holding the chain she grabbed it from his limp fingers, calling. 'Cas! Get him now, he's in danger! Lucifer!' she begged the shocked brothers and they seemed to speed up, kicking themselves into gear.  
Cas!' Sam was praying, while Dean rummaged for his phone.  
'He was there, he planted a decoy to lure us. Then he asked where my Grace was and he could see the answer in my mind.' she hurried to explain. 'Shit! Castiel! Brother!'

Dean dashed to the kitchen, holding his phone out in a desperate search for signal. She put the necklace on, pressing it close. Sam opened his eyes, looking about expectantly.   
'I'll try outside!' he said, racing for the door. She was left alone, angry, ready to break something. She grabbed a rusty spanner and threw it against the wall, then reached for another.  
A sound of fluttering wings echoed around her.  
'Cas!'  
'I could not answer, I was in peril.'  
'Peril?' she put down the spanner. 'You cant go back out, ok, Lucifer is after you. Eh, which is my fault, sorry.'  
'It is not your fault.' he snapped.  
She quirked a brow at him. 'Are you alright?'  
'No. I am tired, I have more important things to do than remain in this place to assist the Winchesters in Hunting.'  
She frowned, watching him move. He looked like Castiel, he smelled like Castiel and he moved like Castiel, but there was something off. Something was shouting at her to run.   
'Know what this is?' he held out a shinning vial  
'Glow-stick?' she said, more bravely than she felt, putting the car between them. Even in her haste, she choose her own car, not wanting to risk death and be reanimated to face Dean's questions if she caused his car to get so much as a scratch on the paint work.   
'Its your Grace.' he explained.  
'I don't want it back, I told you.' she kept a tiny bottle of holy water in the wheel arch, her fingers moved to this.  
'You will take it.' he said menacingly, marching around the vehicle.   
She took a step back, looking at him with her other eyes, her Demon eyes. 'You're not Castiel.'  
A smile, a smirk. 'Well, what gave it away?'  
'Cas is nice.' she kicked at its face and reached behind her for her knife. He moved too quickly, pinning her to the ground with embarrassing ease. He held the bottle to her lips and pulled out the stopper.  
'Please allow me, to introduce myself.' he sang 'I'm a, well not a man exactly, of wealth and taste.'   
'No!' she shouted, before bitting her own lips closed.   
'Yes.' he was almost soothing, he put his free hand on her chin gently, but unstoppably forcing her mouth open. The glowing substance spiraled between them, then swopped down to fill her up. She spluttered, shaking against it, trying to fight it.  
Light pierced everything about her, it stabbed down through her mind to her eyes and it took over every available corner of her being. Pain burned down her nerve endings, leaving her raw and aching, then in a flash, it stopped and the weight on her chest disappeared. She was alone on the floor, couching, gasping, familiar hands pulled her up.  
'What happened?' Dean asked, brushing hair from her face, tenderly.   
'Lucifer has Castiel, he's wearing his vessel.' another cough interrupted her.   
'He gave me my Grace back.'  
'What? Why?' Dean led her through the garage door and sat her down on her bed.   
'We need to help him, Lucifer is an Archangel, he will burn through his skin in no time.'  
'I know.' Dean's face was set, when he looked at her his face was a grey mask of pain. 'What do we do?'  
She took a deep breath, finding her Grace right back where it always had been. 'Kill him, and I think I have a way.'


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had been expecting it to be empty, so when she went in she didn't immediately register the man standing at the sink.  
> Once she did, it took her mind a moment to catch up and she laboured to join the dots. Synapses firing in her brain seemed to say, 'of course an Angel can get in, otherwise how the heck could I get in.'.  
> Her next thought was angry, because the cunt was holding her fishy mug and had a knife in his hand.....
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

'So Operation Daddy Daycare is shelved for now.' Sam was pouring over a piece of vellum. The document that Crowley had left Temperance, before he died. 'This, I mean, this is like a Witch and a judge got together and wrote the plot of a James Bond movie.'  
'Will it work?' Dean pressed.  
The contract was for Temperance, ready to be bound when she signed it. It gave her all the powers of Hell, with one or two stipulations.  
'It should.' Sam pressed his lips together. 'I don't know if we should though.'  
'Why not?' Dean glanced at the confusing layers of occult symbols and Latin phrases. 'It will kick the Devil out of Hell.'  
'Well she has to be in Hell for that to hold and it wont make her the King, she will have all the power that Hell's got in reserve but we have no way of knowing if thats more than Lucifer or not. What if he takes it from her, what if he gets stronger.' He glanced down at his notes 'And I don't trust it.'  
'Its Crowley! Come on, he'd never hurt her!' Dean pressed, waving his brother aside.  
'He has done it before!' Sam shouted, exasperated enough to scatter his books away from him.  
'So, you want to think about it?' Temperance asked. Of course he wanted to think about it, weigh the options and make her choices for her, it might be done with the best intentions but it was still taking her choice away.   
'Can't hurt to sit on it a bit longer.' he pressed.   
'Castiel needs us.' She said.   
'Tem.' Dean swallowed hard. 'Tem, he's probably already dead.'  
Speaking those words seemed sinful and she shuddered against it, almost clapping her hands to her ears to avoid the sound.   
'No, Lucifer can't use a dead vessel and Cas is what keeps that body alive.' She spoke sternly, in a no-nonsense voice that reminded her of her mother. She glared at Dean, who was looking on with something like pity in his eyes.  
Sam pilled his books, ignoring them. Suddenly, something made him look up, mouth agape.'Oh, shit, we have to go!'  
'What?' she snapped, glaring at him.  
'No, we all gotta leave, Cas warded this place, he's allowed in. That means Lucifer can get in!'  
Dean was already on his feet, his go-bag ready, his weapons chest ready. Boy-scout efficiency making him the first to the door. Temperance, less efficient but with a lot less to pack, spared a glance for her instruments, there wasn't time, or space. The stained finish of John's bass glared a question at her from its perch and she shut off the lights, silently warding the room against harm and hoping to see it again.   
She didn't have much else, her jacket, a few items of clothing, a few records. John's lighter sat over her heart in her shirt pocket and at the last minute she grabbed her fishy mug from the stand by the sink. Sam was the last out, two hard-drives, a dozen handwritten notebooks and his laptop packed away.   
Dean frowned at the car they were leaving behind. 'Sorry.' he said to Temperance, pulling out into the weedy lane. 'We're coming back.'  
'Yeah.' Sam agreed, with a firm nod. 'Of course we are, but where are we going?'  
Temperance had an answer. 'Three Sister's, Oregon.' she said, pulling out a map for Dean.  
'Whats there?' he asked, taking the creased roadmap and glancing at it.  
'One of my houses, I said I'd bring you to visit them, no time like the present.'  
'Two guesses who bought you a house.' Sam chuckled, the weak laugh wasn't enough to lift their spirits, but they all tried to smile.  
'And a small Greek Island.' Crowley, she thought to herself, kept on giving, even in Death. 'Get driving.'

According to Sam's phone the road and the house didn't exist, it didn't show up on the satellite and he had little faith that it would appear around the rocky bend.   
Crowley had built the place, or, rather, had it built to mimic a brutalist housing estate in London. One that he knew she had liked the look of, though this wasn't an estate, it was a very large house. A sprawling complex of concrete and hard angles.   
It was set deep in the valley, surrounded on all sides by tall pines, with a view of a stepped waterfall and a thick forest. There was a mist hanging in the air when they arrived, she got out of the car and put her hand against the door, a scanner pinged to life and lights popped on in the gloom.  
'You own this?' Dean stood in the strange lounge looking through the glass windows at the wildlife beyond. The floor was made of dark, polished concrete and the whole room seemed to hang, weightlessly, over the water. There was a Tomi Unger print of liberty being forced down someones throat above a deep leather couch.   
'Yeah.' she flicked a crystal decanter 'I've only been here once.'  
The brothers were exploring, Dean had found the TV and speakers and seemed delighted by it, then managed to get into the second garage, where a shout brought her running. He was pointing at a Volvo, a 71 P1800.  
'Thats The Saint's car!'  
'I know.' she said, looking at it and back to Dean. 'Its a Volvo.'  
'I know its a Volvo!' he rushed over pressing his face to the glass 'Is this yours?'  
'Yeah.' she backed away, ready to be alone. Her Grace and her Sin were battling inside her gut. 'You can have it if you want.'  
'I can have it!' he seemed to go weak at the knees, hands hovering above the chrome bumper.   
'Crowley just gave you this place? Its off grid, its like, I don't know, like fucking batman!'  
'He was extravagant.' She shrugged, slouching off to find a bedroom.  
Crowley was extravagance personified, he had tried time and time again to give her the world. She put a hand to her heart, she missed him, she missed him. Tears stung her eyes and she blinked upwards, daring them to try and fall.  
The ceiling of her room was slightly rounded where it joined the walls, making the whole concrete on concrete affair feel softer. The large bed floated in the centre of the floor, lit softly from beneath. She tested the mattress, sighed at the obvious expense of the silk sheets and said, aloud. 'I fucking miss you.'  
She thought, soberly, that she would always miss him, as she would always miss John, as she would have to miss Birdie and Rosie. She put her bag down in the cavernous wardrobe, not bothering to unpack it. There were a few shirts and ties here, no suits though, she put out a hand to the cold cotton, feeling the plastic dust wrappers warp under her fingers. Then she took a long bath, looking out at the unsuspecting hikers on the trail, who couldn't see in. Hunger drove her out of it, long after the water went cold. 

Sam was chopping up vegetables in the industrial looking kitchen. The walls and ceiling were made up of a rough, board marked, concrete in contrast to the smooth finish in the rest of the house 'Hey.'  
'Find a room?' she asked, glancing at the food he was preparing.   
'Yeah, theres a Picasso in there.' he said, happily. 'This place is so weird, I feel like a cartoon villain.'  
'Dean said Batman.' she sat down on at the counter. 'Sam, I'm sorry.'  
'Don't apologise.' he brushed it off 'It wasn't your fault, we got played is all.'  
'So, is the plan still the plan?'  
'Best one we've got.' he said, sadly. 'Theres so many variables though, too many!'  
'I can take on the Devil.' she spread her hands. 'He's a blonde lad with daddy issues, I'm great with them.'  
Sam laughed, properly, it was the first time he had done so in so long that it startled her. His kind eyes crinkled and his lips spread out with joy. 'Oh my god! Please say that when Dean's here!' he gasped, wiping away tears. 'Daddy issues! Ha!'  
'Whats funny?” Dean appeared, a shotgun in his arms. 'Did you know that theres a hot tub?'  
'There's a recording studio too.' Sam said, hiccoughing.  
'Really?” she tore her gaze away from the plate of tomatoes she had been eyeing up.  
'This is your house!' Dean rolled his eyes.  
'I didn't build it, there would be much less of it, if I did.'  
They ate, talking with a strained attempt at cheer until they all agreed to go to bed. The dark rolled in quickly over the mountains, the spruce trees waving close to the windows, like strange creatures in the night. 

It was a brief respite, it couldn't last. Safety was never their ally.  
'We need to talk about what Heaven is doing.' Sam had brewed coffee in a futuristic looking pot and poured each of them a full cup.   
'Reordering itself before it starts a World ending event?' Temperance hazarded. The coffee was bitter, she tipped it out and left her mug on the draining board.  
'Yeah, but what is the motivation here?'  
'Michael's a douche?” Dean held up a hand and raised a finger. 'He hates humans and wants 'em all dead, he's got an inferiority complex and he's never gotten over the fact that his dad didn't love him.'   
'Are we talking about Michael or?' Temperance began, playfully. Dean made a face from the table, but Sam wasn't going to let them take it easy.  
'He wants humans dead cause he thinks the Apocalypses might bring back God.'  
'Well, why doesn't god do something about it?'  
'Tem! You met the guy, he's a flake and he's clearly got bigger issues.'  
'Bigger issues than the world he made.' she said under her breath.  
'Cas was worried about him, real worried.' Dean said, looking into his cup like the caffeine might hold answers.  
'So, we should free Castiel and ask him!' She wasn't about to give up on that winged bastard now, no way. 'We need info, we're blind without him.'  
Sam and Dean shared a look, a look that bothered her to the very core of her being. So she closed her eyes and took a few steady breaths before saying, clipping off her words and grinding her teeth. 'Why the fucking hell do you not trust my plans?'  
She could hear the tress rustling outside, she could hear a stray drop of coffee rolling down Dean's cup, she opened her eyes.  
'Well, when have they ever worked?'  
'Fuck you! I saved your lanky fucking behinds plenty of fucking times. If we used more of my plans there would be less world totalling events to keep fucking track of!'  
'Ok, how do we do it then? Huh?' Dean stood up, a flare of anger colouring his face. 'What danger do we put you in to do it? All your plans revolve around your shitty self worth, ok, thats why we don't listen to you! Cause we care about you more than you care about yourself!'  
'Oh don't you dare make this about my self loathing, I'm working the fuck through it you prick!' she stalked over to him, without realising, her finger raised to jab at his chest.  
'Ok, what is you plan?' he put as much scorn as possible into his voice and crossed his arms. 'Let me guess, to save Cas you get to kill yourself? Again! Or, maybe, hmm, maybe you just put yourself in a position to be mutilated and maimed? Maybe you give up your Grace, your eyesight, your fucking memory, I don't know!'  
She took a small step back, the force of his tirade was almost physical, just as she was rallying to answer, Sam stepped in.  
'Tem, Dean, sit down, both of you.' when they were seated he continued. 'We do tend to shelve your plans, I know we do. Its not cause we don't trust you, its just, well, the way we are, we don't get to rely on anyone but ourselves. This time, however, its cause its the Devil. Cas is possessed by the Devil and the Devil is an Archangel. Don't you see what that means?'  
She bit her lip. 'It means that he said yes, that he let Lucifer in.'  
'Exactly.' Sam said, sadly. 'It means that we can't trust him.'  
Dean slouched in his chair, nodding glumly. 'He's been compromised.'  
Temperance looked down at her shoes, she didn't believe it. If Castiel had agreed to it, there had to be a very good reason. He must have been led to believe that it was for the greater good, that it would somehow benefit the two men sitting across from her. She shook her head, but didn't speak.   
'I think we can talk to one of his allies though, remember he talked about an Angel called Naomi? I'm going to see about finding her.' Sam stood, leaving her alone with Dean.  
'Sorry.' he said, after a while. 'It hurts ok, it hurts to loose him.'  
'I know.'

Sam went into town, he pointed out he would attract less notice alone then if they all went. Privately Temperance agreed, but if Dean had pushed the matter she would have gone.  
In the end Dean gave a magnanimous sort of shrug and ran for the jacuzzi the second his brother was out of the garage.  
Temperance stayed at the door a moment, looking out at the grey morning, then decided she might make a jam sandwich for breakfast. The kitchen should have been empty, she had been expecting it to be empty, so when she went in she didn't immediately register the man standing at the sink.  
Once she did it took her mind a moment to catch up and she laboured to join the dots. Synapses firing in her brain said, of course an Angel can get in, otherwise how the heck could I get in.  
Her next thought was angry, because the cunt was holding her fishy mug and had a knife in his hand.  
'I am glad to find you.' he said, his voice smooth and full of holy purpose. 'Michael requires your death and I shall serve him well.'  
'As if.' she rolled her shoulders, an audible pop from her joints as she moved. 'Cannon fodder.'  
The mug shattered, as he dropped it, and she let out a snarl. 'That was my favourite mug!'  
She pounced, pinning the angel to the floor and battering it all about the face, sinking her sharp knuckles in to every inch of unprotected flesh she could reach. It struggled to unfold its wings, to try and throw her off, but she had too from a grip, she was too strong.   
She felt removed from her body, looking down cooly at her hands, blood spattered and violent, with one powerful, vicious movement, she smacked its head on the concrete, cracking the skull and littering a viscous mess of brain matter and bone on the ground.  
It died, a flare of light burning bright as a brand as the thing fled this plane, leaving a corpse and the imprint of neat wings on her sitting room floor.   
'Cunt.' she spat, aiming a swift kick at a suited leg.  
Dean was dripping in the doorway, gun cocked, swim-trunks bunching a little attractively on his damp thighs. 'Who was that?'  
'One of Michaels.' she went outside, rinsed her hands in the stream. Shedding water with a few quick shakes she returned to find Dean laying out plastic, to wrap the body in.   
'So, he knows where to find us?'  
'Yeah.' she closed her eyes. 'Shit, text Sam, tell him were leaving and not to come back.'  
'You think more are coming?' he looked up, rubber kitchen gloves on his hands. 'Where do we go now?'  
She crouched down, squatting at the side of the body. 'I feel like we are fighting on too many fronts. I don't know what to do to catch a breath.'  
Dean was looking off into the forest, his mouth set in a hard line. 'Heaven is enemy number one right now, I think we need to focus our energy there.'  
'But Castiel.' she began.   
He shook his head, decisively. 'He would want to us oust Michael, we need to make contact with the faction fighting against the new order there.'  
They heaved the body into a ditch, watching it roll away and settle in a deep ravine. They packed quickly, then Dean drove away from that place, his eyes on the sky, waiting for another attack. 

They chose a hotel at random, a cheap place with a tiny kitchen and tinier bathroom. Sam warded it, Temperance tried to help but he had everything covered by the time she and Dean arrived.   
'I couldn't find Naomi.' Sam said 'I tried everything I knew, either she's off the radar or she's dead.'  
She sank into the sagging mattress, head in her hands .'I'm fresh the fuck out of ideas.'  
'Me too.' Dean sat down beside her. She heard the tremor in his voice, the slight, barely perceptible warble that made her think he wanted to cry.   
She took his hand, holding it firmly, his ring bit into her palm but that was a simple enough thing to ignore.   
'We find Cas.' Sam said, laying down his spray paint. 'We find him. Thats the first thing we do.'  
Temperance refrained, she thought with admirable restraint, from saying 'I told you so.', but Sam must have read it in her face, because he shot her a warning look.   
'Lucifer might still be wearing him.' Dean didn't remove his hand from hers, he was staring at their fingers thoughtfully. 'Tem, remember you went into Sam's head to find out who possessed him?'  
She nodded, giving his hand a little squeeze.  
'Can you do that to Cas?'  
Sam was lounging against the bedside locker, his long legs crossed. 'You would need to touch him though? Right?'  
'Maybe.' she settled on, brushing Dean aside and going to look out the window. Maybe was the only answer she could give. 'Just give me a minute.'  
She called up everything she knew about herself, it was painful, a little embarrassing and enough to make her squirm where she stood. What did she know about Castiel, besides his habits, a few of his likes and dislikes. He was honourable and he loved the brothers, he tried to be brave and kind and sometimes he was less dense then usual.  
Inspiration, she thought, had never hit her like a thunderbolt, this one grew on her, like moss. 'My Grace.' she said. 'He shared it, so, its a link to him.'  
'Ok?'  
She saw Sam's reflection, he was hanging on her every movement. They were desperate. 'We summon his vessel using that, and then we incapacitate Lucifer long enough for me to to get into his head. Mind-meld style.'  
'Ok, Spock, how the hell do we summon the Devil?' Dean looked up from his phone.  
'Ask nicely?' she turned around 'I'm an ideas gal, you figure it out.'

They drove to a park, scaling the wall undercover of darkness and setting up a Devils Trap in the playground. Temperance drew the sigils while Sam prepared a summoning spell and Dean warded the perimeter.   
'What the fuck is that?' She asked, as Sam uncorked a flask and splashed liquid around her trap.   
'Holy oil.'  
'Oh, please don't fucking get it on me.' she took a step back 'It stings like a mother-fucker.'  
He rolled his eyes 'You know you curse more when your nervous?'  
'Shit, I thought I was hard to read.' she fiddled with her lighter. 'Ready?'  
'All set.' Dean spun the barrel of the colt and looked down the sights. 'Lets get this party started.'  
'So, the spell should invite him to cut a deal with us, against Heaven.'  
'As long as Tem didn't do the Latin.' Dean scoffed.  
'I will never live this down!' she sighed 'I can speak dozens of way better languages.'  
Temperance cut her hand into Sam's silver bowl so he could begin the summoning spell and crossed over the cold oil, waiting. Once a telltale flicker of light began to appear she set the oil alight and drew out her knife.   
Castiel, only it wasn't him, it was his body. Lucifer was at the helm.  
'You know, its not nice to trap people. You're prayer implied that I was joining the team, but I'm not feeling the warm and fuzzy here.'  
'Boo-fucking-hoo.' she crossed the barrier, slapping a palm to his chest. He stiffened, red light coursing through his limbs. He fell stiffly to his knees and she put her fingers to his temples. 'Castiel.'  
Inside his mind was a warren of memory, caught in its rough current she was dragged until she reached a kitchen, the Bunker kitchen, where Castiel was watching T.V.  
She rushed towards him, taking his hands 'Cas, its Temperance, how to fuck do we rescue you and how do we find your allies?'  
She felt it was prudent to get straight to the point. He blinked dolefully down at her, then looked back to the fuzzy screen without speaking.  
'Castiel?” she clicked her fingers under his nose. He looked dazed, more than half asleep.  
'Go away.' he said.  
'Whats Lucifer done to you?'  
'Huh?” he glanced briefly down 'He mostly just leaves me alone. I'm just waiting here for the battle with Heaven.'  
He heaved a sigh, staring at his television set.  
'Cas, the brothers have trapped Lucifer, all you have to do is expel him to regain control of your body, he wont have a vessel to take, he'll be banished to Hell and we can get you to safety.'  
'Doesn't sound like a great idea.' he mused.  
'Come on Brother, lets do this now before its too late!'  
A little cough, someone cleared their throat. 'It already is.'  
'Fuck.' She rose, gripping the table.  
'Say, is this the Winchesters kitchen?' Lucifer ran a finger over the green tile.  
'It has good reception.' Castiel had returned to his programme, ignoring the current peril.  
Temperance scowled, irritated beyond belief, she decided she wasn't a people person,  
'Get out of his body.'  
'Make me.' The Devil taunted, sauntering closer until he was bending over her, his hands on the tabletop on either side of her arms. His eyes burned golden. 'I'm not going anywhere, hon, and neither are you. No, no, not until we've had a little chat.'  
She felt her feet leave the ground, if there could be ground in a memory and her back slammed into the heavy refrigerator. The breath was pushed from her lungs and she tried to move and suck in a breath.  
Lucifer tutted, bending down to pick her up by the scruff of her neck, he dragged her across the floor to an open space. With ease he lifted her bodily onto the table and slammed her head against the wood, which felt horrifically solid.   
'Hon, you wanna cage me, is that it?' His hand pressed on her windpipe, he had reach on her, she couldn't stretch to claw at his face and had to settle for his hands. 'You want to stop Michael from rearranging life on earth? You want your little Angel friend back?'  
'I want some good MDMA and a bottle of Lucozade.' she snarled, kicking out and forcing him back into the oven. The enamel coated door was dented by his fall. Massaging her throat, she sat up. 'Get out of Castiel!'  
'I don't want to leave, yet.' he purred 'I'm about to have so much fun.'  
'Not on my fucking watch.' she didn't know what to do, she hoped a plan would spring up as she marched across the memory towards him, and failing that she slapped him across the face.  
'Ow!' he complained, putting his hand to his cheek and looking very put out. 'That wasn't very nice.'  
'I'm not very nice.' she spat, grabbing a fistful of his hair and slamming his head back into the oven door.   
He caught her fist as it moved to hit him and pushed her back with embarrassing ease, spun off balance she careened into the tiles, jarring her elbow badly and slipping to the floor. He was looming over her yet again. 'I came when you called.' he growled, his white teeth inched from her face. 'Do you understand how important that is, I didn't have to, but I came for you!'  
'Could you please be careful.' Castiel sighed from his perch 'You're going to break something.'  
'Lets take this outside.' With a deafening pop, a burst of pressure and air, Temperance pulled back from Castiel, opening her eyes to see Lucifer staring out of the wrong face. 'Thats better.' he said, smiling.  
She tired to pull her hands off him, but she was stuck, welded to her awkward seat, the fire around them suddenly was snuffed out.  
'We had a lot of fun in that other Universe, remember, I'd say we bonded. So, I am gonna give you a gift.'  
Time seemed to slow and solidify around them, the very air stilled. She looked at the brothers, frozen in mid-step. 'How did how did you find us?' she asked 'If the summoning didn't work?'  
'I'm a blonde with daddy issues.' he sniggered 'I can find you anywhere.'  
She slapped a hand to her head, of course, her necklace. She moved cautiously, standing and putting a few metres distance between them. 'Eavesdropping.'  
'Technically Castiel was, I was just in his body.' he gestured to his flesh with a clownish exaggeration. 'Now, sweetie. I want to talk to you.'  
A snap of his fingers and she was frozen, she watched him advance on her with mounting fear that she did her best to batten down.  
'Now, I have these great plans to kill my brother. I thought we wanted to same thing, but turns out, what he actually wants is for God to come back! I'm like, you want dad back, free house party and he wants to call daddy to come give him a hug!' he threw up his arms. 'Hello, lame! No, I do not want that. What I want is a little chaos. I want him dead and Hell all nice and full of human souls to fuck with, and just to fuck!'  
She couldn't blink, but hoped she was expressing her glare enough for him to feel the force of her anger. He carried on speaking, hands in his coat pockets.   
'And now Michael is tryna kill me! Oh, and you, so he can use your power to unleash Revelations and go biblical on the Universe. Not cool. I thought you were calling me so we could team up!' he looked at her, groaned and snapped his fingers again, releasing her.  
She didn't stagger. 'Give us Castiel back, he knows who is against Michael. He can help.'  
'Duh! Why do you think I teamed up with him. He has the info and I have the power, he let me in so I could get rid of my bro and leave his little goodie-goodies to take over.'  
'But you think its more fun to use him to fuck with as many people as possible?'  
'You got me!' he winked 'Evil! Now, I've something for you.'  
'I don't want anything from you.' she took another step back. 'Except, Castiel back.'

'You will want this.' he smiled, clicking his fingers and causing a large box to appear in his hands. 'You want to defeat my bro, your pappy? Well, you need power and thats what I'm offering.'  
'What do you get out of it?” he lip curled.  
'I told ya' he set down the ancient looking wooden case, then sighed, looking up at her with a little pout. 'Theres never gonna be another like you, honey.'  
She frowned and stayed quiet, trying to feel the spells he was using to freeze time around them.  
He opened the lid with a flourish and presented her its contents with a smile. Resting on stained velvet was a sort of rickety looking diadem. 'Lovely?”  
He snorted and pressed the circlet into her hands, it was made, as far as she could tell, of horn or tusk, with long thin spines of bone arranged in a nightmarish way around the top. 'The Crown of the first Queen of Hell' he traced a finger lightly over the polished surface.   
She put it back in the box, not wanting it in her hands, she needed those free. 'Lilith had a crown?'  
'You betcha' he snapped his fingers, making the damn thing sit on her head 'This wasn't it though, she was all about the glamour and glitz.' he pulled a hand mirror out of his coat and held it up for her, reaching around her shoulders so both their faces were reflected in the glass. 'What? You don't like it?'  
'Who was the first Queen?' She raised an eyebrow, keeping her hands loose, ready to go for his eyes.  
'You! Silly goose!' he pinched her cheeks from behind and rearranged a lock of her hair. 'It was made for you.'  
'Me? You made this for me before you knew I existed?' If she could keep him talking long enough she could break his spell, then brothers could do something, anything.   
'Well no!” he rolled his eyes and spun her back around 'Of course not, I made it for the first Queen but I didn't know who that would be. Look, ain't it great, it knows you can handle its juice otherwise it would have burned you up!'  
She touched the monstrosity, cautiously. 'Its not just a crown then, yeah?”  
'Hmm' he tapped his lips 'Not exactly. It allows you to manipulate matter on Earth, but in Heaven and Hell it taps into the energy that makes Angels and Demons, this thing was touched by the hand of God.'  
'I thought you made it?'  
'I did, I made it out of a Hand of God.' he flicked at the spines of bone. 'Its powerful honey, and I'm offering it to you.'  
'In exchange for?'  
'I don't want you to kill me, or cage me, and I don't want my lil' bro to do that either. I'm lending it you to you take out Micheal. Then we can talk, after, about what I can do to convince you to keep it.'  
She laughed, shaking her head, this was too odd to be happening. Lucifer looked at her in the full light of the moon. The crown glowed a little, showing off vague shadows of her wings and blackening her eyes with the force of its power. She rolled her ankle, uncomfortable under his gaze.  
'Hot damn, you know, I've known human bodies that would make people weep for their sheer perfection, I've seen with my own two eyes the pure unaltered essence of the universe and I cant describe how beautiful it is, but right now, honey, I totally get it.'  
'Get it?' she turned her face to the ground, scuffing the tarmac.  
'You're gorgeous. Powerful and fucked up.' he touched her face, cupping her cheek with his palm 'I gotta say the whole caustic, icy demeanor would never really have done it for me, but there is something about you. Maybe its just the whole frenemy thing we got going.'  
'Frenemies? You're directly responsible for all the shit that was my Dad's life.'  
'Yeah.' he agreed.  
'You tortured Crowley.' she took off the crown, turning it over in her hands thoughtfully.   
'True.' He winked. 'But, I'm charming ain't I? Irresistible?'  
She blinked and met his eyes in sudden confusion, A dozen thoughts crowed the forefront of her mind and she felt her mouth drop open as a horrible feeling washed over her. 'Here, you hardly fucking mean that you wanna ride?'  
'I'm open to it.' he laid an arm on her shoulders, his fingers trailing around her collar.   
'Are you actually attracted to me?' she shuffled out from under his touch. She wondered how she could work with this.  
'Yep. In a way.'  
'Ah feck off.' she slapped a hand to her head. 'You were beating me up a minute ago!'  
'C'mon! I've been honest about it.' he sounded a bit annoyed, a little pout on his angry mouth.  
'I thought you were messing around.' she pressed the heel of her hands to her temples, the crown dangling from her fingers.  
'I don't fancy you.' she said after a moment 'I don't hate you though, which is pretty strange, all things considered.'  
'So, maybe?' he stood, offered her a hand up.  
She didn't know how to play this to her advantage, she wasn't John, she wasn't Crowley. She was a blunt instrument at best, but her dad hammered those chess lessons home, so she picked a path and stuck with it. 'Listen, Lucy, I don't get what your angle is. If you just want to survive then we can cut a deal. Simple enough. The Winchester's need allies in this thing.'  
'It's more than that hon, I've been in that Cage for so long and I am not looking forward to going back, or to not existing. I want to live but I want to do all those bad bad things I've always wanted.' his teeth glinted as he smiled. 'Come with me, it will be a riot.'  
She took a deep breath considering her options and hating all of them. 'What makes you think I'll give this tiara back, or go with you to Hell?'  
'Maybe you wont, but, I think you will. In exchange for Shaggy and Scoobie's daddy.' he skipped over to her, not seeming to like the distance she kept putting between them.  
She stared at him like a target, trying to decide what to do, where to hit. 'John Winchester's soul.' she said. 'Not a trick or a dead thing, his actual soul and a place to put it?'  
'His body back?' he smiled, wickedly 'I can get that, easy!'  
'And his soul not all fucked up.'  
'You drive a hard bargain. I'll give them back dad and you stay in Hell with me, you can saddle on up at my side.'  
'You don't share power.' She held up a hand, stopping him from touching her again 'Don't pretend that you will.'  
'I'm not planning on sharing.' he flashed his sharp teeth. 'I'm planning on you working for me, on you remaining loyal to me. I need a Knight, you're ready made.'  
He held out his hand, she didn't take it, not yet. 'How can I trust you?'  
'Ouch! Honey, I'm wounded!'  
'You're evil.'  
'Oh, blah, you don't believe in good and evil.' he grinned. 'Ok, how about I get the fuck out of Castiel, call it a show of faith.'  
A hundred thousand sirens wailed in her head as she looked into his horrible eyes, but she took his hand. A firm shake from hand she knew in kindness, then he bent to brush his lips off her knuckles and whispered, triumphantly. 'Deal.'  
'So, what next?' she tugged her arm free, stepping away from him once more.  
'You go kill Michael and save the world before he decides to melt it down. I'm gonna spilt and go back to Hell.'  
She felt she should tell him about god, about the song, about the horrible idea it put in her head. One that she couldn't help but steer towards.  
'If I kill you.' she spoke, stopping him with a touch of her fingers to his arm. 'They clip my wings don't they? Cast me down as it were?”  
'Yeah. Sorry kiddo, thats the grand plan. I felt it happen, I felt Him writing it.' he frowned, his hands snaking out to hers turning them round. 'If you're with me though, you wont do that. Call it self preservation.'  
'Never should have jammed with god.' she sighed, theatrically, watching him examine her skin.  
'You can always just drop the load and leave this all behind.' he pressed a kiss to the centre of each palm. 'Ditch the boys, ditch me.'  
'Not take a side, you mean?'  
'You don't have to go along with it, thats the beauty of free will.'  
She shook her head 'I'm not human, not really.'  
'Yeah, but you play the part just swell' he knuckled her chin and winked before disappearing into the gloom. 

Time sped up, Castiel's body crumbled in a shock of golden light and the brothers ran forward.   
'What happened?” Dean asked, pulling Castiel into his lap and tapping his un-responding face.  
'Whats that?' Sam was looking at the crown.  
'We need to get to cover, then I'll explain.' She bent over Castiel and pressed her palm to his head, pouring power into his body, reviving him enough so that he could open his eyes and say.  
'I wanted to be of service to the fight.' he gasped, clawing at Dean's jacket 'I thought only Lucifer could defeat Michael.'  
'Its ok buddy.' Dean helped him up 'Come on, lets go, explain later.'  
The hotel suite was cold and dark and as far from homely as could be, but they rushed in through the door, thankfully.   
'He offered us a deal.' Temperance said, putting the crown on the table 'This can give us power to defeat Heaven, its a Hand of god, or something.'  
'Wow!' Sam leaned over it, careful not to touch it. 'He just gave it to you?”  
'A few strings attached.' she put a hand on Castiel's shoulder and he covered it with his own. 'After we kill the fucker, Lucifer expects me to go to Hell as his Knight. I agreed so long as he gave us this now, handed over Castiel and, em, he's to give us your dads soul.'  
Dean gasped at that, his eyes going wide 'What!'  
'I drive a hard bargain, hows that for low self worth, bitch.'  
'Tem!'  
'We shook on it, no kiss, on contract. Its not binding.' she hastened to explain.  
'Somehow I do not think that Lucifer will see it that way.' Castiel turned his head to speak to her and she felt a wave of relief roll through her to see that he was back.  
'Well, fuck him, cross that bridge and burn it down later,'  
'Fuck me.' Dean put his hands in his head 'We keep amassing more fucking problems!'  
'I like to collect them.' she said. 'You know, like Pokemon cards.'  
'Like what?' He threw her a bemused look and then said, to Sam. 'So hows this crown work?'  
'I have no idea.' Sam was still examining it. 'Hands of God are said to have been touched by God himself. They contain His power and whoever uses the Hand can use that power.'  
'They are rare, but not unheard of. Humans would die if they touched them, so many have been inadvertently destroyed.' Castiel piped up. 'Temperance, thank you.'  
'Huh?'  
'You gave me your Grace, you rescued me from torment, thank you.'  
'Oh, yeah, right. No need.' she shrugged, stuffing her fists into her pockets.   
'Also I must congratulate you on lying so effectively.' he went on 'I could feel what Lucifer felt, he believed you, every word.'  
She grinned, her eyes glinting in the lamp light 'I know, it was a fucking rush!'  
'He believes that you do not want to harm him, that you do not hate him. He believes you are ambivalent about Hell. I saw, in his thoughts, that he thinks you are more Demon than you are aware.'  
'Of course he does.' she winked at the Angel. 'It fits his narrative.'  
'You lied to the Devil? And you got away wth it!' Dean laughed '  
'Ye of little faith.' she touched her pendant 'Gus perfected the double cross, I might not have the best head for politics, but I can play a guy like a cello once I know what he wants.'  
'Oh, and what does the Devil want?' Sam was frowning, one hand on his laptop.  
'Weirdly enough, loyalty, power, and the possibility of sex.' she cocked her head to the side. 'Not that different from Gus, really.'  
'Ok, so, Team Free Will is back together. We're taking down Michael and stopping the apocalypse.'  
'Saving the world.' Castiel agreed.  
'Sounds very on-brand.' Temperance rummaged in her bag and found a bottle of gin. She took a swing threw it to Dean and collapsed onto the bed. After a moment she let out a long laugh.   
It was a giggle, a squeal, she couldn't stop it. Dean joined in after a moment, Castiel even managed to smile.  
'Whats funny?' Sam asked, looking down at the gin.  
'Its only the end of the world.' Temperance managed to say, wiping tears from her eyes and swallowing another giggle 'Again.'


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Either we protect Lucifer or we kill him first.'  
> 'Kill him.' Said Dean and Temperance together......
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys - thanks for reading. I would love some comments or feedback on the story so far, theres not that much more to go (I think..! I'm honestly just making this up as I go along, I didn't expect this many chapters when I began!)
> 
> :)

They returned to the Bunker, Dean felt a soft wave of satisfaction at seeing everyone home and safe. He watched as Temperance relaxed with a sigh into her music room, followed by a wide eyed Castiel, who seemed to want to stay near her.  
He was almost happy as he unloaded groceries and began making dinner. Sam poked his head into the kitchen later that day and looked carefully down the corridor before closing the door.  
'You ok there?' Dean put down his beer and picked up a spoon to stir his pot of chilli.  
'Can we talk?'  
'Sure.'   
'Its, um, its a big picture talk.' he said, quietly. 'About Michael and Heaven.'  
Dean stared down at the simmering pot for a moment, he palmed a tin of beans and halfheartedly began to chop coriander. 'Uhuh.' he grunted, waiting for his brother to say what he needed to say.  
'I feel like we're drowning.' his voice was low, gravelly almost, when he eventually spoke.   
Dean felt every instinct he had to protect him rush to the forefront. A building panic in his throat that made him feel helpless. He left the chopping board, putting the knife down firmly.  
'What can I do?' he had to help his brother, he needed to help his baby brother. 'Tell me, Sammy, what do you need? Do you want to stop this, take a break?'  
Sam, who had been looking down at his joined hands sat down with a sigh. 'I think we're beyond that now. It's like theres a script and we're destined to go long with it, to save the world again and again. Avert disaster once and theres a bigger one around the corner.'  
Sam's eyes were clouded with unshed tears, he squeezed his eyes shut and pinched down on the bridge of his nose.   
Dean grabbed his shoulder, trying to convey something through the strength of his grip. He didn't know what though, he had felt like he was loosing it for weeks, months even, it just kept spiralling.  
'Are we making it worse?' Sam asked 'Is it us? Is everything we do causing more trouble than good?'  
Dean was certain that his heart stopped, there was a deafening silence where surely he should here blood pumping in his ears. The bottom seemed to fall out of his stomach. 'We try, Sam, we try to do good.'  
'But do we actually do good!' He looked up, his broad forehead crinkled. Dean suddenly realised how gaunt he looked, his usually shinning hair was limp around his ears and his eyes were hammocked by dark circles and his skin looked greasy. He resisted the urge to take his temperature like he used to when they were kids, because right then his brother looked sick.  
'Yes. Of course we do.' he sniffed, and went back to stirring his pot. 'Come on, pull out that rice and rinse it.'  
Sam did so, after a moment, Dean watched him from the corner of his eye. He was a little pale, he didn't know when he last went for a jog or something.   
'What happens after?'  
'After what?' Dean threw down the wooden spoon, it hit the side of the sink and splattered dark sauce on the counter.   
'After we stop Michael from ending the world.'  
'We cage Lucifer.' he said smartly.  
'And, then?'  
'Then, well, then things go back to normal.' he went to the fridge and grabbed a cold bottle of dark beer. He waited for Sam's next question, it was on his mind too. What was normal, for them, what life did they get to return to.   
Sam didn't ask that though, he said. 'What do we do about Cas?'

'i've been thinking.' Temperance said, putting down her bow and resting the cello on her thighs. 'About the nature of god.'  
'It is humbling to meditate on.' Cas was crosslegged on the ground, looking through sheet music.  
'No, not in that way. I mean, like, god and Amara were created. They have a parent, a maker. There is something beyond what is beyond the Universe. It sort of makes this shit with Heaven and Hell seems pretty insignificant.'  
'Do you know of the Endless?'  
'Eh, no.' she tested pressure of her bow and rummaged around for a chunk of rosin.   
'Its a story, a fable really. It tells of seven aspects of the most powerful forces in the universe, Destiny, Death. Those sorts of natural forces.' he looked up, to ensure that she was listened and continued after she gave him a small nod of encouragement. 'The Endless exist everywhere at once, they cannot die but they can change and grow and become a different version of themselves. They last as long as the universe does, then they are made anew.'  
'Right?' she set the instrument aside and sat on the floor beside him. 'I'm not sure what you're getting at.'  
'They are born, they are created by living consciousness.' he lowered his voice. 'I begin to wonder if we all stopped believing in God, would God simply cease to be. Would he return to the minds of mankind and have no more power over the Universe?'  
'But.' she chewed that over a moment. 'But he made the Universes, we know he did. He made them, but there is something beyond them. So, surely it is whatever us beyond us would need to stop believing in him to destroy him? Which brings me back to my original point, all this shit is pretty insignificant.'  
'I do not believe so.' he shook his head and stood 'I will leave you now, Sister.'  
She stared down at the mess of paper on the floor, slowly shuffling it all into her hands.  
'Hey.' Sam stuck his head in the door. 'What are you thinking?'  
She blinked, raising her head from the music. 'I haven't played music in a while, not properly, and I wouldn't mind doing an open mike night somewhere.' She put down bundle of paper. 'My bandmates are all back in Europe, they got jobs and houses and one of them went into production. I miss gigging with them.'  
'Oh.' Sam took this it in stride. 'I meant, you know, about Lucifer.'  
'Oh, right, yeah.' she followed him to the kitchen. 'I was lost in thought about other things.'  
'Dinner.' Dean announced 'Where's Cas?'  
'Sleeping.' Sam sat down, pulling a bowl towards himself.   
'Oh, ok, well, we need to talk about him.' he ladled out food for Temperance and sat down across from her. 'He's human, so, we're back to Operation Wingman.'  
'I could.' she began, intending to say that she could give him her Grace.  
'No!' both brothers cut her off with a curt gesture, scowling over their bowls of chilli.  
'Ok!' she held up her hands in defeat and picked up her spoon. 'Just a suggestion.'  
'We need to contact the Rebels.' Castiel's voice was sleepy, he looked tussled. 'My Brothers and Sisters in Arms, the can help us.'

She had a short cap of blonde hair, a kind, heart-shaped, face and very blue eyes. She waved her hand at the wrist, the crisp sleeves of her blue shirt were closed with pearl buttons.   
'Castiel.' she spoke with warmth.  
'Sister.' he turned back to Temperance and the brothers 'This is Naomi, the second in command of the Rebel Faction.'  
'Two of you I have met before.' she said 'I was there when you returned John Constantine to his place in Heaven.'  
'Oh.' Dean and Temperance shared a glance. 'Good to see you again.'  
'I must thank you for the good you have done.' she bowed her head 'And thank you again for allying yourself to our cause. Castiel has lead us well, he will lead us to victory, God willing.'  
'God had nothing to do with it.' Temperance muttered, kicking her toes into the gravel.  
Castiel rolled his eyes and turned back to the Angel. 'Lucifer has all my knowledge of the Rebellion, we are compromised.'  
'Yes.' she agreed. 'We acted fast, we are safe. Also, I have a gift for you, Brother.'  
Castiel flashed a small grimace. 'I require nothing, your safety and the Rebellion's continuation is all I could hope for.'  
The woman, the Angel, held out a tapered vial to Castiel and smiled, radiantly, at him. 'Take it, Brother.' There was a radiant joy in her eyes and in her smile.  
'Is that?' Dean asked, awestruck.  
'How?' Castiel's disbelieving hands closed on the vial. 'I can never repay you for this.'  
'We began looking long before you were a vessel for the Betrayer. We have guarded it closely.'  
'Thank you.' he breathed, pulling the stopped and releasing a stream of softly pulsing blue light. Castiel's Grace fled into his body, As it coiled around his heart there was a great flash. Blinking in the aftermath the humans and Temperance all saw his wings.  
'Cas is back!' Dean whooped, clapping him on the shoulder 'All right! Lets kick Michael's ass!'  
Naomi gave a delighted little laugh and clasped Castiel's hand. 'There is much to discuss. Will these wards hold?'  
'Yes.' he lead her to a seat, holding her hand in the crook of his arm.  
Dean raised his eyebrows at that, watching the little intimacies as the pair sat, side by side.   
'Michael has accelerated his plans.' she explained. 'He will take Lucifer and use his Grace to bring about natural disasters, world-wide. He had hopes to utilise supernatural means, but your friends have thwarted him.'  
She flashed a smile at Temperance, who felt herself blush and looked quickly away. Dean snorted, noticing that.  
'She probably has daddy issues.' he snickered, jostling her with his elbow. She slapped his arm away, biting back a smile.  
'We must not allow this to happen.' Castiel said 'Either we protect Lucifer or we kill him first.'  
'Kill him.' Said Dean and Temperance together, while Sam remained silent, looking thoughtfully at the Angels.   
Castiel seemed to be restraining himself from commenting, he swallowed 'Temperance, the Hand.'  
'The?' she asked.  
'The crown, Temperance.'  
'Oh, right.' she opened the shoe box she had stored it in and handed it over to him.  
Naomi gasped, little tears pricked the corner of her eyes and she put a shaking hand out to the box. 'A Hand of God, I never thought to be in the presence of one.'  
'Lucifer gave it to Temperance, with the understanding she would use it to stop Michael.'   
'And in exchange for you.' Temperance was happy to have the thing out her hands, there was something about it that made her skin crawl.   
'Yes, thank you.' he turned back to Naomi. 'I believe it would be prudent to destroy Lucifer, however, if we can have him as an ally we will have a better chance at succeeding.'  
'An ally?' Sam scowled 'Satan as an ally?'  
Naomi was nodding. 'I believe you are correct, we need to send an envoy. With another Archangel on our side we would be more evenly matched.'  
'He wont. No way.' Temperance said, shaking her head.  
'I think he will.' Castiel stood, his trench coat falling neatly around him 'If you ask him to.'  
'Me?' she shrieked.   
'No way!' Dean snarled at the same moment.   
'I know his thoughts, I have experienced his memory, he fells a kinship with Temperance that will influence his choice.'  
'But I already made a deal with him, one that I plan to renegade on, but still. He wont go for a change in terms.'  
'He might, if he understands the danger that he is in.' Naomi put in 'I did not know Lucifer well, but I remember what was said of him. He is shrewd, he will exercise caution in this. He underestimated Michael once before, he shall not do so again.'  
'Do we have proof to show him?'  
'Woah! Wait! You're talking like you're doing this, which you aint!' Dean sliced his hand in the air between Temperance and the Angels.  
'Says who?'  
'This should be a group decision Tem! W're all on the same team here!'  
'Look, whats the point in waiting around. I'll go find him, and use one of Hell's ordinary entrances to make sure its not a huge formal binding thing and I'll tell him that Michael's on the way and we can protect him.'  
'And how do we do that?' Sam asked. They looked a question at the Angels who were conferring silently.  
'We can bind him in the, eh, dungeon.' Castiel said, looking uncomfortably down the hall.   
'So we lie and kidnap Satan?' Dean sniffed, then took a step towards the Angels, finger raised 'I don't know what the heck you guys are planning but this is a recipe for disaster.'  
'Temperance, it is true that Michael is your father?' Naomi walked smoothly over the tiles towards her, ignoring Dean.  
'Technically.' she said, making a meal of the word, her lips thin with displeasure.  
The Angel took her hand. 'If we make Michael aware that you are in Hell, he can use your blood to open a portal, right to Lucifer. By going there you put Lucifer in danger, if Michael knows about it.'  
'Oh, that seems a bit sneaky.'  
'And a bit stupid!' Sam pointed out 'That puts her in danger too.'  
'Sister, I understand if the deceit does not sit well with you, but we will give you every protection.'  
'No.' Dean said, forcefully.  
'Can we text him?'  
'Unlike Crowley this king doesn't have a cellphone.'  
'Actually he does.' Castiel said, picking up a a pen and scrawling down a number.   
Temperance snatched it from his fingers and took out her own phone. She dialled quickly, slapping Sam's hands away.  
'Its Temperance, Michael's after you, he wants to drain your Grace and fuck up the World, do you wanna come here?'  
She hung up, nodding. Looked at the four bemused people around her 'He's on his way, said he'd bring a change of clothes.'  
'Jesus christ, Tem.' Dean sat down, dropping his head to his hands.  
'What?” she asked, all innocence. 'I'm a problem solver.'  
'I thought you were an ideas gal.' Dean sneered.  
'I'm both.' she shrugged, going to the kitchen to eat leftover chilli.  
Castiel hurried to add to the wardings of the Bunker and Naomi left for the Rebels, with a kind word and a wave. Sam and Dean ran through their arsenal, silently working side by side.

Satan arrived without fanfare, he knocked smartly on the heavy iron door and waited to be let in. He had a duffle bag over one shoulder, a camera on a cord around his neck and was dressed in a ridiculous Hawaiian shirt. 'Vacation!' he cheered, when Dean greeted him with a shot gun and lead him through the halls.  
'Not the most welcoming of arrivals.' he joked. 'Hey Sammy!'  
Sam grimaced from the library door, the Colt pistol in one fist, an Angel blade in the other. Lucifer raised his camera and took a photo.   
Temperance was sitting with her feet up on the table, she had the crown he had given her on her knee. She looked him up and down, jerked her chin to a seat, then pulled out her phone, scrolling through records she wanted to buy while the boys began to lecture the Devil on the house rules.   
'So we're not having a slumber party?' he pretend to pout. 'But me and Miss Moderation gotta have our bonding time.'  
'How about bondage time?' she flicked her eyes up. 'We've chains if you're going to be difficult.'  
'Kinky, not really my thing, but I'll try anything once. Or twice.' he spread his hands, Dean was quick to snap a set of warded manacles on him. 'Hey!'  
'You do good and I'll take 'em off.' he grunted, sitting down and leaning forward, threateningly. 'You're hear to stay safe, ok, so you don't leave unless we say so. You don't fuck with anything here and you don't try and mess around with us. Got it?'  
'Yes sir, captain, sir!' he saluted mockingly, snapping his hand up sharply.  
'And you're to leave Tem the fuck alone!'   
Lucifer let his eyes slide towards her, she didn't look up, but gave him the finger. He snorted. 'If thats what she wants.'  
'Trust me, it is.' She left them to it, striding towards her room without a backwards glance.  
'So good to be hanging out with you!' Lucifer eyed up Sam 'My three favourite guys to torture and my once and future Knight! Say, where is Castiel anyway?'  
'With the Rebels, they gave us the intel about Michael.' Sam grunted, not moving an inch.   
'Uh-huh, did they.' he joined his hands and tapped his lips with his fingers. 'You know what strength these guys have? Cause I do. It aint much, trust me, if they weren't so good at hiding they'd be long gone by now.'  
'Its better than nothing.' Dean gestured with the gun for him to rise and led him down a hall to a disused storage room, they had shoehorned a bed inside. 'Sit.'  
'Roomie.' he looked around the tiny space while Dean activated a ward on the corridor wall.  
'One of us will let you out later, maybe.'  
'Hope you're enjoying this.' Lucifer called as Dean walked away 'The sooner Temperance kills Michael the sooner I can get out of your hair!'  
'The Devil is in our house.' Dean massaged his temples, looking at his brother 'Why the hell did we agree to this?'  
'Needs must.' Sam grunted, stuffing the pistol into his holster and shooting a sour look down the dark hallway.  
Dean had a feeling they wouldn't be sleeping easy that night.

Temperance snapped awake and opened her door. 'Just knock like a normal person.' she snarled moving aside to let him in.  
'Aintcha even a little scared, or curious about how I got out of the room?' Lucifer ran forward and jumped onto her bed, stretching out.   
'No.' she folded her arms, leaning back against the wall.   
'All this warding and restraining is unnecessary.' he shuffled onto his side. 'I'm sticking around until this is done, scouts honour.'  
'Aren't the Boy Scouts a Christian thing?'  
'I'm a Christian thing, well, technically I transcend all religion. Though I see theres a new church of Satan these days.'  
'Militant moral atheists.' she pulled on a hoodie of Sam's that swamped her body and reached to her knees. 'I've heard of them.'  
'Wanna go visit them and give them a fright!' he flipped onto his back, hanging off the edge of her bed. 'Or do each others nails or something?'  
'I want to go back to sleep.'  
'I'll sing you a lullaby.'  
'Alone.' she continued. 'You can go to your room.'  
'I'm bored!'  
She looked around, saw a rubix cube and threw it to him. 'Here. Goodnight.'  
'Aw, your first gift!' he held it up.  
She shut the door in his face, and carefully took the knife out of her sleeve, sliding it back under her pillow and trying to get back to sleep.


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'He knows far too fucking much about my fucking knickers.'  
> Dean ground his teeth together in silence. 'Do you flirt with every demon on the planet?'  
> She let her eyes go black and gave him the finger.....
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

'Ohh. This is nice.' he held up her silk gown, her last Crowley dress. He waved it about, making the silk shimmer.   
'You can't have it.' she went back to her Latin exercise.  
'Spelled that wrong.' he pointed over her shoulder. 'And that.'  
'Thanks.' she put down the pen. It was a grey day outside, heavy and oppressive with the promise of a storm. She had taken one peep out the front door and decided to stay inside. She wished she had a window though.  
Lucifer had spent the past few days sneaking out of his warded room when Dean wasn't looking, he pestered Temperance endlessly and got annoyed when she didn't rise to his bait.   
She saw the little glint in his eyes, he liked the defiance, a little. Every moment of every day she waited for him to start snapping necks, she had all her knives strapped on, her brass knuckles in a pocket, her Grace held in loose check ready to lash out.  
'So, where's the action round here?' he grumbled, he had draped her dress on the bed, tucking in the waist and examining it. 'When do we go hunt some bad guys?'  
She pulled the dress up and shoved it back in the wardrobe. 'You are a bad guy.'  
'Well, wanna tie me up and spank me 'till I'm good again?'  
'How about I tie you up and stab you?'  
'Never had a blood kink, but I'll give it a try.' he winked.  
'Tem!' Sam called.  
'Saved by the extraordinary tall bell.' Lucifer had his permanent smile hitched on. It was creepy enough to belong in a horror story, but just a shade off being horrifying.   
Temperance left the Devil in her room and stormed down to the kitchen, before she could sit Dean burst in, armed and in disarray. His t-shirt was rumpled and looked slept in.  
'He aint in his room!' he had a shotgun in his arms.   
'He's in my room.' Temperance muttered. She thought that if she spoke through clenched teeth for much longer her jaw might seize up.   
'What!'  
'He can break out of the wards.' she pulled a bottle of Dean's bourbon towards her and tilted a fifth down her throat. 'He's trying on my clothes.'  
'I look good in fishnets.' the creature himself sauntered in, not wearing her fishnets, which was a small mercy.  
Dean brought the barrel of the weapon up, to track him through the space. 'You'll look better splattered all over my wall.' he growled.   
'Well, if thats what you're in to.' he pulled himself onto the counter, swinging his feet.   
Sam, pointedly ignoring the Devil, flicked through his notebooks. 'Cas got us some more info.' he said, shortly. 'We're gonna brainstorm.'  
'Should I stop drinking?' Temperance asked.  
He flicked his dark eyes up. 'Yeah.'  
Dean took the bottle from her hand, drank from it with narrowed eyes and aimed his gun over his arm at Lucifer.   
The three of them were fraying, far too on edge to plan anything.  
'Micheal's sent an invasion force to Hell, as far as we know its on the plains and hasn't reached the centre, um, the seat of power.'  
'It wont, if I'm there.' Lucifer sang. 'My presence keeps things like them out.'  
Sam carried on, speaking a little louder. 'Michael hasn't shown up though, but he seems to think that Lucifer is still in Hell. All of his reports to his troops indicate that.'  
'He's about as sharp as a marble.' Lucifer sighed. 'Honestly, I don't know why you guys are so nervous about him taking me out.'  
A muscle in Sam's face jumped. He fixed Temperance with a long, hard stare that put her in mind of her dad. His handsome eyes said, sort this out before I kill something. She stood, beckoning Lucifer to follow. 

'Listen.' she had lead him to the library and put the long table between them. 'I know its hard, but can you please, please, shut the hell up before Sam and Dean break you.'  
'Not very punk of you to care about 'lil old me?” he put his hands on the table and hoisted himself up, sliding his long denim clad legs over the surface. He dropped his booted feet on the chair in front of her and leaned in with a slow, predatory smile.   
She dropped her Blade into her hand and snapped it, point up to his jugular. 'Its punk if I do it. Stop trying to get me to hurt you, its fucking irritating.'  
'I don't want you to hurt me, not really. I was going for hate sex, if I'm honest. You know I'd want nothing more than Dean to walk in on you ripping my pants off.'  
'You're daddy issues are too much, even for me.' she dropped the knife back into its sheath. A weary felling settled over her, she felt ancient.  
'You're not gonna break, are you?' Lucifer murmured. The smile slipped off, when he wasn't smiling that smile, his face could have been that of a care-worn accountant. His eyes, without the usual glint of golden ringed fire, were blue and twinkling. She noticed he had a wedding ring on, frowned a little at it.   
'I'm not going to break.' she agreed.   
Every now and again she remembered how parasitic Angels and Demons were, they needed people to survive, bodies in particular. Crowley's vessel had been a man, a living, breathing, moderately successful, literary agent. She knew the guy Castiel wore had died, but he had been alive to begin with, some poor fucker with a wife and a kid. Lucifer's seemed as if he had been married too, maybe he had a family out there. She looked down at her own hands for a moment, then looked back into the Devil's human face.  
'We're trying our best to sort out this cluster fuck. Please stop fucking taunting us.' as an aside she added. 'And stay out of my bra drawer.'  
'You only have three.' he crooked a finger into her shirt and looked down. 'Oh, hello, four.'  
She counted slowly back from ten, plastered on a blank face and went back to the kitchen.

'He knows far too fucking much about my fucking knickers.'  
Dean ground his teeth together in silence. 'Do you flirt with every Demon on the planet?'  
She let her eyes go black and gave him the finger.'So, Michael?'  
'A village in Brazil has disappeared.' Sam was massaging his temples, a sheen of sweat on his lips.  
'A, sorry, a what?' Dean refocused his attention  
'Angels.' his brother closed his notebook. 'He's killing people, training up Angels to be killers. How do we stop this?'  
'We have a plan.' Dean began to tap his fingers on the gun stock. 'We stop the apocalypse, right now that means keeping Micheal from killing Lucifer and then striking that Angelic shit down with Cas's Rebels.'  
'Then we send Tem to Hell to kill Lucifer and take over, just like Chuck wanted.' Sam looked decidedly green, his voice was low and gravelly.  
'Sam?'  
He shook his head. 'I can't stand having him here.'  
'Is he fucking with your head?' Dean took his brothers hand on the table, then checked his temperature. His face a mask of concern beneath the pinched exhaustion.  
Temperance watched the display of brotherly affection and reached out with a tiny tendril of power. She pushed gently against Sam's mind, she couldn't feel any shadow there, nothing particularly good or evil. Sam sighed, standing and shrugging off his bothers hands.   
'No, its not that its just.' he broke off, his words hanging in the air.  
'Stress.' Temperance finished for him, pulling the bourbon back into her arms. 'You need a break.'  
'We can't just, you know, send him back!' Dean reasoned.   
'Can't we? We could ward up the Throne room or something!' Sam scowled and aimed a kick at the fridge, Temperance noticed the dent in it get a little deeper.  
Dean adopted a thoughtful look which was when Temperance decided to commit to drinking, she reasoned that she couldn't survive another Winchester plan sober. 

He went through every ward and sigil he knew, double checking Bobby Singer's old journal and going as far as to text Castiel for information. When he was sure he had what he needed, he went to the store room. 'You.'   
'Hey Deano!' Lucifer bounced off his bed.  
'New plan, come with me.'  
'Only if you ask nice.'  
'Come with me and I wont redecorate the bed with the inside of you skull.' he growled.  
The Devil lopped along behind him to the garage, humming off key.  
'Ok.' Dean turned around. 'Listen up, you and me and going down to Hell and we are gonna spring a trap for your little brother, ok?'  
'How?' he bent over to peer into the window of Temperance's car. Dean resisted the urge to kick him.  
The car was looking a little dull, he thought, could use a polish. The baby blue paint job had never been perfect, and the thin layer of grime that sat over it seemed to fill out every little blotch in the finish.   
'We go to Hell, open up the Throne room, with you there, and trap him inside when he arrives. I've wards we can use and I'm sure that you know a few more.'  
'Huh.' Lucifer considered this 'That could actually work, a couple of problems though.'  
'Oh yeah, whats that?'  
'I don't trust you, you're little dream team wont buy it and Michael will expect it.' he ticked off on long fingers, staring Dean down with a flicker of fire in his eyes.   
'Well, we aint gonna tell them and by your own admission, Michael aint too smart.'  
'He's a few stars short of a nebula, alright. However, and, hon, I'm being honest here. He's still smarter than you.'  
I'm sure he is, it probably aint hard.' Dean spat. 'But tell me this aint our best idea, beats waiting around here!'  
'You wanna go rogue and do this now?' Lucifer dropped his stupid smirk and seemed to seriously consider the offer. A minute passed, then another, Dean shifted his weight on his feet, anxiety making his skin crawl as he held the Devil's gaze.  
Finally, he scowled, resisting the urge of his itchy trigger finger he went to the garage door and punched in the sequence to open it. 'We doing this?'  
'Sure! Why not!'  
'Its not gonna be safe.' Dean stepped outside 'But I promise, I'm going to protect you.'  
'Aw shucks!' Lucifer knuckled Dean's chin and took his shoulder, pulling him into the nothingness.

Hell was cold, the throne room had a noticeable chill and the quiet was oppressive. Dean hurried to begin marking the stones and pillars with his wards, happy to see Lucifer set to it without procrastinating. When the work was complete he looked at the Devil, whose hand was resting curiously on the back of his throne.   
'What?'  
'You think Crowley and Temperance had sex in here?'  
'Dude!' shut his eyes, trying to shake that mental picture out of his head. 'Gross.'  
'Oh hush, I've seen the little puppy dog eyes you make at her.' Lucifer chuckled as he skipped across the floor.  
'I don't ever wanna picture Crowley naked, ever, ok.'  
'Not denying it, thats good, healthy. Cause you know that she's coming down here, to me, when this is all done.'  
'To work for you.' Dean found himself snarling, wanting nothing more than to hammer the smug bastards face in with the butt of his gun.   
Lucifer smiled, wide and bright 'You think the nature of that work aint gonna be spent on her knees?'  
He hit him without thinking. His fist connected with his jaw, his knee drove itself up into his gut and then he raised his hand again. 'Shut up! Don't talk about her like that.'  
Lucifer, bent double, grinned with blood on his teeth. 'Dean, I do think you're a little jealous.'  
'I'm not jealous, theres nothing to be jealous of! Stop taking about my friend like she's some sort of, some toy for you to play with!'  
A deep rumble above brought rock dust raining from the vaulted ceiling.   
'Ah, that will be Heaven, knocking on my door.' Lucifer straightened himself up, his fierce eyes fixed overhead.   
'Lets do this, Lucifer, get behind me.'

Temperance's phone rang, the tune was set on Baby Got Back and she wasn't ready to change it. Castiel's voice sounded quickly down the line.  
'No time to explain, Michael's forces have found us, we are under attack. You need to get Lucifer out of Hell, now!'  
'He's not in Hell, he's here!' she felt the blood drain from her face and a flicker of fear slipped into her tone. 'Where are you, let me help!'  
'You can't' he was panting 'Lucifer is in Hell, The Throne room has opened once more. Please, Sister.'  
The connection dropped, she was already skidding around the corner towards Lucifer's store room. It was empty.   
'Sam! Dean!' she ran, boots thundering on the tile. The library had been in reorganised and Sam was standing amongst the stacks, lost in thought. She called to him, running through the long shelves.  
'Sam! Please!'  
Sam rounded a long row on Incubi and paled, suddenly, as he took in her appearance.  
'Where the fuck is Dean? Lucifer's gone back to Hell, we need to get him, now!'  
'Fuck!' Sam was on his feet, hurrying away, pulling out his phone to call his brother.   
'He's not here!' she was forced to admit, after searching the Bunker and screaming herself hoarse.  
The garage door was closed, the Impala in its usual spot, she spared her own car a glance then she noticed the slightest thing out of place. A smudge in the dust on her drivers window. She stared hard at that little patch of clean glass, as if someone had leaned in and looked through the window.  
'He brought him to Hell.' her mind whirring. 'Sam we gotta go, now.'

She opened up a portal, wrenching through space and time with Sam clamped onto her arm. They emerged sweating and shaking in front of a shocked looking Dean. Temperance felt a wave of fear lapping at her mind, she tried to force it down as the room shook around them.  
'You dick!' she shouted at Lucifer, as soon as she appeared. 'What have you done!'  
'Whats going on!' Sam demanded.  
'Guys relax!' Dean called back 'We're gonna trap Michael.'  
'Cas got hit.' Temperance said. 'The rebels are out of action, this isn't safe, we need to get back to the Bunker, I don't know how he convinced you to come here.'  
Lucifer had plucked a spear from an ornate rack on the wall, he twirled this idly in his hand. 'No.' he spoke without turning. 'Too late to leave, the Angels are in the Palace now.'  
'Lucifer cop the fuck on! If Michael finds you, you're fucked and the world is fucking fucked to for fucks sake! 'We have to go.'  
'Dean made a pretty good plan.' he shrugged 'It might just have worked too.'  
Dean began to speak, but Temperance cut him off with a glare. 'What the fuck are you playing at?'  
'I was about to tell you! He grumbled. 'We've warded this place to trap Michael.'  
'To trap?' she looked around, that unsettling fear that fluttered in her throat beginning to make sense. 'Fuck.'  
Lucifer turned around at that. 'Sorry, kid. Like I said, it might have worked.'  
'What?” Dean asked, he put a panicked hand on Temperance arm. 'What?'  
'She's trapped too.' Sam realised 'If they can trap Michael, they can trap her. Shit.'  
'No, no, no! Ok, we gotta break the sigils and go back!' Dean made to scrape his knife though the nearest mark, but Lucifer's strong hand wrapped around his wrist, forcing him to stay still.  
'You break those then this roof is coming down.'  
'Sam, Dean, you guys go!' Temperance ordered, focusing on opening a portal for them to exit by.   
'Not without you!' Dean growled.  
She glanced at Sam, saw him shake his head, siding with his brother 'Not leaving you behind again.' he checked his gun, snapping the clip in neatly.   
'Wait till he's in the palace, then break a few of the wards.' Lucifer advised. He looked around the room with a sigh 'I needed to redecorate anyway.'  
This couldn't be happening, she couldn't let this happen, no, no, not like this.  
The light that came through the windows in the throne room pulsed and then there was a burst of fierce radiance. It doused the room in a web of spiky black shadow. Temperance felt a power roaring around the palace, looking for a weak spot, testing the defences to get in.  
'He's here.' she said. Her father was here, an Archangel was flying through Hell.  
The huge door shook on its hinges, splinters began to form on the jam as the ancient wood frayed from the force of whatever had hit it. Another crash and a rumble of falling masonry, the door cracked, bowing into the room. Lucifer shot a glance at Dean and nodded. Dean and Sam hastily began slashing through the wards, Temperance felt the oppressive fear begin to lessen. Bit by bit as each mark was opened and its power lessened, she felt a tension ease around her.  
'Ok!' she shouted. 'Now.'  
At that moment the doors gave a loud, splintering crash and tumbled to matchsticks on the ground. Dust and white light filled the frame, something shimmered beyond their vision.  
'Lucifer, come on.' Dean put out an arm and beckoned him. 'Theres still time to go.'  
'No, you guys gotta get away, he needs a distraction.'  
'There is no time for heroics.' Temperance snapped.  
'Listen Yakko, Wakko and Dot.' Lucifer brought the spear down with a swift movement. 'He is coming. Now! Get a move on!'  
'Come with us!' Temperance hated the pleading tone in her voice 'Come on.'  
'No, honey bee, you go. I'll hold him off 'till you're all back under your blankies.' he turned to face the rumbling that was echoing up the stone passage. The spear point to the ground at his side.   
As they hurried to the dais, to find a stable place to exit, Temperance looked back. His wings flickered in the red shadows, his form burned in the engulfing smoke and dust as Hell fell around him. He looked like the Devil, she thought, tall and proud.  
Temperance latched onto the brothers and pulled them away. A flurry of sulfuric air and rock dust spat out of the nothingness with them as they landed in a heap in the Bunker.   
Temperance didn't have time to speak, though a torrent of angry dialogue had formed on her tongue, something tugged. Something behind her naval, a hook sinking into her flesh.   
She looked down as the brothers gapped, all around her the air was wavering, like liquid it splashed at her edges. Wide black eyes looked down at the boys, she reached for Dean's already grasping hand, but it was too late.  
She was pulled back, and with a horrendous crack, she sprawled on the floor of Hell, gasping.


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Go to fucking Hell.' the Blade entered his throat under his ear an she tore out the rest with a flick.  
> White flame burst from the wound, an explosion threw the brothers aside and seemed to grip her in its nucleus. A wailing siren of high pitched sounds clawed at her ears, bursting her eardrums. She floated there, burning with pain and blinded by the light, then she was flung through Heaven and out of it.  
> She had a moment to wonder, is this what its like to be unmade, then silence......
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

Lucifer pulled her to her feet. 'Well, that didn't work.'  
Across the room a dark shape was forming in the open, broken, door. She slid on her knuckles, pulled out her knife. 'So, you go for the left, I go for the right?'  
'I take it you don't have the crown hidden in your undies?' he set the butt of the spear onto the flagstones. 'No? Ok, well, I don't know hon, you beat him before.'  
'I let him kill me before.' she pointed out 'And that was a different Michael, the last time I faced this one he fucked me up.'  
She saw a host of Angels at the door, neat suits, crazed eyes, they were pushing at the invisible barrier that sealed the room. 'I'll deal with them' Lucifer said, casually. He raised his right hand and clicked his fingers, the sound of his middle finger striking his palm echoed through the room. It made Temperance's ears ring.  
Something, someone, bellowed a loud roar full of anger and hate. Then her father stepped forward. A crack and a flash of tremendous white light sent Lucifer sprawling, Temperance kept her feet and put herself between him at the approaching figure.  
'Abomination.'  
'You know.' she planted her feet firmly. 'That name doesn't bother me as much as you think it does.'

'You plan to kill me?' he chuckled, it was the small, gentle laugh of an older man. A little patronising. He seemed to x-ray her from the depth of his dark brown eyes.   
He was her father, not in body, barely in spirit. He was her father and she was going to kill him.  
'I'm good at killing my parents.' she let the power flow through her, releasing energy from her mind to coil around her flesh and bones. Dark and Light, Heaven and Hell, she grabbed on to it and battled with the sheer force of it all. She knew that none of this turmoil played out on her face, Cain had taught her well and she was drawing on every one of those lessons now. Schooling her lips to a smirk, trying to convey serenity in her gaze she watched his balance, watched his feet. When he opened his lips again she was in that place of zen, where every second was a lifetime. She launched herself at his blade, it confused him enough that his blow was slow to fall.  
She countered it with the knife, getting her elbow in under his arm and punching him away. He didn't sprawl, he was a warrior long before Cain had been dreamed up, he was built a warrior, but then again, so was she.  
She felt her skin spilt along her ribs, pulling back at a difficult angle to save her arm, she got under, she got in to his guard. Blood blossomed on her fist, his blood. She danced away again.  
She tired to keep Lucifer behind her, desperate for some last minute rescue. He was struggling to his feet, she heard him groan in actual pain. She saw Michael's eyes flicker towards the struggling Devil and tried to grab his attention once more.

'I met god, and his sister. Did you know?' she smiled, she wanted to smile, this made her far too fucking happy. She wanted to kill him, she could feel it rushing through her, coursing through her with her blood, she wanted to fucking kill him. Not only the Demon in her, the Human, the Angel, the punk, she wanted him dead. It was like having the Mark all over again, the desire for blood rose so quickly, as familiar as her boots on her feet.  
Fury distorted his handsome, and far too young looking, face, his eyelid twitched in time with a vein pulsing in his temple. He turned back to her, bring the sword up in his fist.  
'And,' she continued, easing her feet on the ground, settling her weight. 'I killed you, in another Universe. God didn't think you were special enough, didn't think you were good enough, he made loads of versions of you and I killed one already.'  
'Even if thats true.' his mighty voice echoing in the cavernous room.  
Good, she had him talking, she didn't listen to him then. She didn't think anymore, she threw a punch and caught him square in the jaw.  
Michael reacted quickly, he wrapped a powerful hand around her throat and threw her, like a rag-doll. She bounced down the time smoothed steps that lead to the dais and spat out a mouthful of blood, which sizzled on the flags.   
'I will make this quick.' he spoke from a great height, swooping down around her.  
'Oh, please do, hari-kari yourself there and I'll be on my way.' she coughed, something moved wrong in her chest. All of a sudden a horrific burn flared through her spine, she threw a hand around, trying to move from the floor.  
He had pinned her down and branded a ward into her skin. She felt it running under her muscles, searing her nerve endings. She could feel it in her wings, the first time she had ever felt anything there, other then the improbably weight of those false limbs. She struggled, desperately, pushing her mind out against the restricting band of pain, but it was useless. She was stuck, she was held in a vice as surely as as a Devils Trap would have held her. Blood clouded her vision.  
'Hey, get off my girl!' Lucifer called.  
Michael stood, the pain did not diminish, he could ignore her now, she thought bitterly. All she could do was watch as he approached his brother, his long sword held aloft.  
Lucifer smiled, serenely, but she hadn't the time to take it in, something was fastening all round her, like a cage.  
No! She tried to fight it, not, not this. No. A substance that was not, exactly, metal, flowed over her, encasing her tightly in a prison shaped like a human figure, made in a perfect outline of her body. She felt sharp, burrowing, flares of pain as spikes began to grow on the walls of her tomb, pinning her to its dreadful, draining, form.  
They fought, she heard it, she registered it, in the part of her mind that wasn't pain and fear, she knew that they were fighting.  
It was hopeless, it was never going to work, he was too strong. A body crumpled to the ground near by, she thought she heard a laugh and then the pain reached a fever pitch and she was falling, falling. Gone.

Dean stared at the Angel, not taking in what she was saying. He hadn't slept in two days, not since Hell.   
Naomi had answered Sam's call, turning up bloodied and disheveled to tell them that Michael had destroyed almost her entire force, Castiel remained in hiding but the movement was effectively crippled.   
'Have you heard anything about Lucifer, or Tem?'  
'They live, they are imprisoned in Heaven. Michael will use their power to end the World.'  
'Then we gotta go there and get them back.' Dean said, standing. He felt a tremble in his limbs but pushed through it, gritting his teeth. 'Its my fault that this happened.'  
'Stop.' Sam shook his head. 'There no point blaming yourself, we have to focus on getting them free.'  
'I cannot bring two humans, the Winchesters, into Heaven unnoticed.' Naomi explained with a sad sigh. 'I do not have the power to conceal you.'  
'Well, what power would that take?' Dean was staring at the Hand of God, resting in its shoe box.  
'We cannot use that.' Naomi followed his eyes to the crown, 'We need it to defeat Michael.'  
'Without her there is no defeating Michael!' he slammed his fists down onto the table, scattering paper and making his brother jump.   
'Dean.' Sam reached out a hand.  
'No! Don't! This is my fault, I took Lucifer there, its my fault she followed, my fault she got taken. I have to make this right.'  
His brothers eyes were too expressive, they said too much with a look. Dean wanted to shrivel in on himself, pulling himself up and away from the others he found his feet following a familiar path to Temperance's door. It was ajar, he saw her leather jacket hanging on the back of her chair, pushing in he reached for it. Her jacket. Crowley made that jacket for her, he knew it was made up of all sorts of gnarly spell-work. A hard lump in his hand turned out to be John's old lighter, he plucked it out of the pocket and held it in his palm.   
The gold was soft and smooth, its edges rounded from years of use, the nickel plating below starting to show through. He closed his fingers around it, holding his fist to his mouth, praying to something, for something, he didn't know what.   
He looked around, what had Temperance to pray to, to pray for. He bent his head, joining his hands.  
'Tem, if you can hear me, please forgive me. I wanna help, please tell me how to help, give me a sign.'  
Silence.  
He sighed, ok, so praying to Temperance was probably not his brightest idea. He believed in her, he believed in her more than anything. She was impossible and amazing and strong, she was so fricking strong.  
His eyes fell on a Patti Smith record, the one Crowley had hidden her contract in. He had been smarter than Dean gave him credit for, more decent than maybe the asshole himself would like to admit. He left a plan, a plan that would have worked.  
He went to his own room, still holding her jacket, his record player was more decorative than anything else, since Sam had put all his music on his phone for him. He looked at the Led Zeppelin record, Temperance had given that to him, he couldn't remember if it had been for christmas or not. He took out the vinyl and put it on, carefully dropping the needle into its cradle.  
If Crowley had anymore words of wisdom, he certainly hadn't left them for Dean. He opened the sleeve, double checking it was empty, then sighed heavily. His fingers were tightly wrapped in the jacket, he could smell the leather, a soft smell of lavender that might be her shampoo. He bent over, trying to hold back tears, he had fucked up, he had fucked up again. He had gotten her hurt, again! He had doomed the world that he kept saying he wanted to protect and his little brother with it.   
He walked slowly to the garage, going through his arsenal once more, mechanically. His mind wandering over all the promises he had made, and broken. 'Shit.' the trigger on his crossbow was a little stiff, he set it on the workbench and looked around for some oil or WD40. He crouched through the passenger door and opened the glovebox, certain he had a canister somewhere.  
There it was.

'Dear meatheads, 

I assume one of you can read.  
If this has reached you, I'm dead. Probably for some wonderfully noble reason. I'd much rather be alive, but I digress.  
I have left Temperance a Contract, someplace where she would find it, if she went looking. I know that neither of you will like it, but trust me, I'm much more clever than you.   
Now here's the fun part, and you best make sure that this gets done, once she's down below and working the juices to her liking, I want you two to play Nancy Drew.  
I've left her everything, property, accounts and various assets that she will, no doubt, not appreciate, but there is one special thing that I have left for you.  
Find a Witch, named Papa Midnite, a vicious Voodoo Priest with a Demon for a sister.  
Temperance wont want to close the gates, not unless the Wings are closing theirs. You'll need a powerful Witch for that and she owes Papa.

So long, and thanks for all the headaches.   
Crowley.'

Dean almost smiled at the curling handwriting, it didn't help, not right then, but he had a sudden surge of inspiration.  
Crowley always hated Temperance using magic, mainly because she was so bad at it, and Dean recalled, with vivid detail, the last few spells he had tried with her.  
'I've an idea.' he said, his brother and the Angel had their heads bent over a stack of books, they looked up, two sets of tired eyes regarded him from across the room. 'We get to Heaven through the Dreaming.'

It had changed, he looked around, shifting his crossbow in his hands. The sky was still and dull, the air he was breathing seemed far to sill and he had to wonder aloud. 'Is this place dead?'  
'No.' Naomi spoke, shooting a fearful glance around 'But without the Virgin it has begun to revert to a state of raw Dream-stuff, it is becoming unmade and remains so until someone dreams of it.'  
'This place is creepy.' Sam lopped ahead, taking point. He had reluctantly agreed to this plan, only after they had made contact with Castiel. He was alive, just about, hiding out in a far corner of Heaven with the handful of Angels who had survived Michael's purge. He would be waiting for them at the entrance to Heaven. They had a deadline and the three of them hurried through the grey tinged fields in silence, every now and again Dean jumped around, certain that something was following him  
'We are attracting Dreamers.' Naomi said, putting a small hand on his arm. He followed her eye line and saw a young boy stumble through the grass, then disappear in a blink.  
'Did he wake up?'  
'Most likely.' she said, dropping his arm and hurrying forward.  
The door to Heaven hung in the air before them, a shimmering window with no discernible edge.  
'How do we?' Sam looked to Naomi.  
She put the flat of her palm on thin air and seemed to push, nothing happened, the strange shimmer remained, but she smiled and stepped forward. She was engulfed by the softly moving light as she vanished.  
Sam swallowed, took a deep breath and hurried to follow, Dean close on his heels.  
They came through a cracked glass door into a stained corridor, it had once been pristine, while tiled and neat, but now the walls and floors were smeared with soot and blood and beneath their feet the tile had been reduced to rubble.  
'Cas!” Dean threw an arm around his friend, his trench-coat was gone, his tie loose and singed. A flock of renegade Angles closed ranks around them, keeping them shielded from view.  
'Hello.' he said, with his usual gravity. 'Did you bring the Hand?'  
Sam held out the shoebox and Castiel took it with a nod.  
'We don't have much time, you must get to the dungeons and free Lucifer and Temperance, we are ready to make a last stand.'  
'What can we do to help?' Sam asked 'Once we get them?'  
'Get out of here and go somewhere safe, Michael will not take kindly to the apocalypse being cancelled again.' He nodded to Naomi who hurried out of sight along the corridor. 'Take this hall to the next junction then head right. The place they are being held is guarded by a Seraphim, you will need the Colt'  
'Got it.' Dean brandished the gun and said 'We can do this.'  
'Yes.' Castiel agreed, then with the sound of beating wings, he vanished.   
Heaven seemed like a maze to them, each corridor looking the same, each door unmarked. After what felt like hours they heard someone moving ahead of them and crouched to take what little cover they could in the open halls.   
An Angel, dressed in a grey suit and blue tie marched before a solid door. He word the body of a stocky man in his mid-50s, grey hair slicked back, a neat mustache on a craggy face. Sam looked at Dean, nodded once.  
The colt had a smooth action to it, the trigger knocked the hammer with impossible speed and the bullet reached the Angel long before the sound of the shot did. Dean hit him right between the eyes.  
They were on their feet before he fell, Sam bent down and stabbed him in the heart, just to be sure, while Dean set about trying to open the door. 'Has he a key?' he asked.  
His brother patted the body down and came up with a long iron key with an ornate barrel. 'Look!' at the Angles hip was a sheath, a familiar one, Sam pulled Temperance's Blade from it with a scowl. The door opened with a click and the stench of blood billowed out of the sealed room.

Temperance woke up bound to a chair, she knew she was sitting because the mind melting pain that she felt all over was particularly concentrated at the back of her knees where something sturdy was digging in. She raised her head without groaning, looking around. One eye refused to open, she grunted.  
Lucifer was similarly tied up across from her, he let out a shaky breath, that might have been a laugh. 'You up?'  
He was sitting in a ward, dying. She breathed out hard through her, miraculously unbroken, nose. 'You look like shit.' she offered, after a moment.  
'Better looking than you.' his word garbled by loosened teeth.  
The cell was almost seamless, brilliantly white and shinning, Lucifer was strapped to a tall chair, bleeding thick black blood from his ears and nose. Where his eyes had been there was now two scabbed pits. He shouldn't be alive.  
She looked, through her good eye, at the chains that held her and scoffed. A little flex, well, a lot of flex and energy and one around her wrist snapped. She concentrated on the other, across from her Lucifer shifted in his seat, a strange intensity radiating off him.  
The second chain broke, she coiled them behind her and bent to look at the restraints on her ankles. 'Ah.'  
Two long iron spikes, engraved all over with wards had been driven into her ankles, she didn't try and move her toes. Touching a finger to the iron she had to fight to stop a whimper breaking through her clenched teeth. It was woven with magic to hold her, she took a few quick breaths, steading herself. What was pain, after all.   
She quickly wrapped her fist around the first one and pulled with all her strength.  
She almost passed out, she almost screamed.   
Panting, slumped over herself, she explored the spike further, it was bent around the back of the chair leg, she would have to push it through. 'Fuck.'  
She made a fist, not daring to look up, not able to give herself time to think about this. It was going to hurt, it was really going to hurt.  
The first impact split her skin, the second shattered some small, vital feeling, bones in her hand. The third hit drove the metal through her limb and she wrapped her hands around her calf and pulled.  
She only had one eye to work with, and the pain was blinding, sweat dripped down her brow, mixing with blood, she could feel it sticking to her and she shivered, holding back bile and vomit. It would hurt less to chew her fucking foot off.  
One more, just one more to go and she was free, time to think about what that meant, after.   
She passed out, it would have been embarrassing if it hadn't been so necessary. She rose from the chair and immediately fell forward to her knees, her mangled feet refusing to cooperate. She faced the ward around Lucifer, sweeping her eye over it, side to side, trying to find an opening.  
Everything hurt, her hair fucking hurt, why did Heaven always hurt.   
Lucifer seemed to sense her there and raised his blind head to smile. 'Hey sugar, you can't cross that.' his face a mask behind the bruises and blood.   
'I can feel what that is around me.'  
'Fuck you, I can do anything.' she spat. 'Its just marks on the fucking ground.'  
'You gotta get out of here, kill Michael and I'll be fine.'  
'I can't fight him like this, I'm fucked.'  
'Yeah. He made me watch what he did to you, didn't look good. How'd you get those things out of your legs?'  
'I asked nicely.' she tested her feet, she wasn't healing correctly, but the muscle and tendon seemed to have re-attached.   
'You gotta finish him.'  
'How do I get out of here?'  
As if it had been waiting for her to ask, the door behind her clicked open.

A clamorous ringing of great bells had the brothers ducking and covering their ears. The sound was piercing, all encompassing, it was a sound that passed through them and became part of them. When it finally ended, Dean looked up and saw Temperance.  
He rushed across the floor, skidding to his knees at her side. 'Tem!' he took her elbows. 'I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry,'  
'Its fine.'  
'You aint healing?' his voice a shriek.  
Sam had looked into the room, then put his back to it, watching the corridor 'What was that sound?'  
'Intruder alarm, I'd guess.' said Lucifer. 'If they didn't know you were here, they do now.'  
Dean examined the Devil, reluctant to let go of Temperance. She gently pried his fingers off and went to the door.  
'Try get him out.'  
'Where are you going.' Sam caught her as she stumbled 'Tem you can barely move.'  
Her joints grated against each other, audible crunching as she forced her legs forward. 'Cas.' was all she could say. Sam nodded, pressing something into her fist, she looked at it, her Blade.  
She was half Angel, she was in Heaven. It tore her apart to be here, but this is what she had to work with. Letting it all run through her, she spread her wings and for the first time in her life, she flew. She didn't know how she was doing it, so she opted to not think about it.   
Heaven unfolded around her, blossoming into view like a strange petaled flower. She felt, pushing out her mind to look for Castiel. There was a blimp, a flicker, she turned her body towards it.  
Castiel was standing with a scant handful of battered looking Angels, he gasped as she fell int their midsts, landing awkwardly on one knee.   
'Ow.'  
'Temperance!' he took her in his arms, laying healing hands on her temples. She felt a wash of cool air slide over her skin as her flesh began to knit itself together, there was a tug and her swollen eyelid opened.  
'Hi.' she said.  
'Michael will know you have escaped.' he picked her up, as if she were made of the most fragile of glass.   
'Lets go fuck him up, so, got the crown?'  
He nodded, showing her the Hand of God in his fist. 'You should wear it.' he urged.  
It was neither heavy, nor light. She barely felt the weight of it and Castiel placed it, reverently, on her head. There was a hushed murmur from the Angels around her, then Naomi spoke, in a clear voice.  
'He's coming.'  
The Angels dispersed, ready for battle.   
Castiel remained beside her, sliding his Angel Blade from its sheath in silence. 'We shall prevail, Sister.'  
'Preaching to the choir.' she felt the unsettling stab of righteous power that proceeded her fathers imminent arrival.   
'I am impressed that you have gotten free.' his booming voice shattering the world around them, what had been a room with offie chairs trembled and melted away to another plain, ikea white corridor. He appeared in a clap of thunder, his wings spread.  
His dark eyes narrowed, fixed on the crown.  
'A Hand of God, Michael.' Castiel levelled his blade at the Archangel. 'You will face us, and die.'  
Neither of them expected it, it took Temperance a moment to realise what she was hearing, he laughed. He was laughing, a great ringing laugh from deep in his belly.  
'You were always good value, Castiel. If a little slow.'  
'Slow?' Castiel's face creased in confusion

Temperance concentrated on her power, she couldn't reach it all, not here, the Demon side was too far away. Her Angelic power flowed, pure and sweet as spring water, it welled inside her, waiting to be called on. It was familiar. Too familiar. It was all she had.  
'Fuck.'  
'You see, abomination?' Her shit head of a father laughed again, pulling his sword from its sheath at his waist.  
'You cannot use it, because God was not aware of your creation. He was looking elsewhere when you decided to exist.' he flicked a disgusted finger at her.  
Desperately, as Castiel stiffened beside her, she tried to pull the power from the crown, it was, resolutely, just a crown.  
Revelation washed over her, a cold shower of it, all of her nerves jolted wide awake and she saw. She saw through time, through space, through herself and she remembered being dead.   
She remembered being in the Nothing, the place outside of Creation, the place beyond god. His power was not off-limits to her, she was beyond it.  
'How many times must I beat you into submission child.' he teased 'Before you learn your place.'  
She didn't like the sound of his voice, with a quick flick of her wrist she threw the crown to Castiel and saw him catch it in his fist, his skin glow with a sudden influx of power and she rose into the air.  
'You're fucked.' she said, to her father, her sort of biological father. 'I'm going to fucking eat you.'   
She didn't attack, she flew. Michael's eyes were huge, shocked, enraged as she dove for him, pushing aside the air, the very gravity, to get as close to his throat as she could.   
He flipped onto his back, rolling beneath her and she over-shot her mark, earning a deep gash to her thigh from his improbably sharp sword. This was his domain, she allowed the wry thought to pop up, this was not going to be an even fight.  
It never was though.  
She slashed with her Blade, the knife she had made with her friends, imbued with their blood. It sank into his shoulder and she thumped it down, she tore his flesh as she pulled it free, wrenching her arm in the process.  
Michael roared, kicking her aside. His booted foot connected with her chest and she slammed back to the tiled floor with a grunt.   
Castiel moved too quickly for her to see, slamming into the Archangel, tearing at his glossy wings, lightning strobed in the place that was not sky, she caught sight of the shadow of feathers tumbling to around the brawling pair. She rose once more, blood tricked from her scalp, hot and wet down the back of her neck, she was already so fucking tired.  
Temperance waited for an opening, Castiel would give her one. He had his hands clasped on Michael's head, his arms hooked around the Micheal's struggling bIceps. The sword had fallen, clattering away unseen. She flew towards them, brought her bloodied knife down once more, he twisted at the last moment and she missed his chest, grazing his side as he knocked her back once more.  
Down below, mortal flesh in Heaven's corridors, she saw the Winchesters were desperately trying to free Satan, from this vantage point, she could see why they could not.  
'Fuck!'  
'I've got this! Go!' Castiel roared.  
Her wings carried her down, towards the brothers.  
'We can't get the chains off.' Dean was wrestling with a thick white cable of woven metal.   
'Stop.' she had seen what they had not, she had the eyes for it. 'Its not a chain, its his life-force.'  
'What?' Dean looked up, exasperated when Sam seemed to understand and nod in wonder.  
'They're draining him, he's powering something.'  
'Michael.' Lucifer croaked.  
'What do we do?' Sam asked.  
Deans eyes had hardened, he looked down at Temperance's Blade, still in her fist. He nodded at her once, then dragged his foot through the ward around Lucifer, so that she could pass. Dean was always quick on the mark, when it came to death.  
'Lucifer?' she pushed him back, almost gently into his seat, where he had slouched against the restraints.   
'Yeah, hon?' his dead eyes fluttering closed.  
'Go to fucking Hell.' the Blade entered his throat under his ear an she tore out the rest with a flick.   
White flame burst from the wound, an explosion threw the brothers aside and seemed to grip her in its nucleus. A wailing siren of high pitched sounds clawed at her ears, bursting her eardrums. She floated there, burning with pain and blinded by the light, then she was flung through Heaven and out of it.  
She had a moment to wonder, is this what its like to be unmade, then silence.

A face floated above her, a kind face, with kind eyes and neat, dark, hair.   
'Cas?' she croaked out the name, uncertainly. He swam into focus, she felt a pressure on her hand.  
'I'm here, Sister.'  
'What happened?' she felt a crack in her skull and had to think to heal it. A hot pain behind her eyes as something settled in her grey matter. She sat up, put a hand to the back of her head and winced. It was tender, bruised, but not cracked open.   
'You freed Lucifer, the act enabled me to use the Hand of God and kill Michael.'  
'I'm an orphan, yay.' she pumped her fists in the air, sarcastically and then, wincing in pain, she stumbled back down to the floor. 'Well done you.'  
'Thank you.' he crouched at her side and put a hand to her head, healing her with a wonderful rush of light. 'The brothers are unconscious, but unharmed.  
'Lucifer?'  
'Presumably returned to Hell.' Castiel raised her up and gripped her shoulders. 'Thank you, for all you have done to aid me, Temperance.'  
'No bother.' she gave him a brief hug, he seemed pleased with it. 'So, your crowd will be in charge now?”  
'It is uncertain, we will aim to restore order, once you are the brothers are returned to Earth.'  
'Ok.' she smiled. 'Lets go.'

Dean woke up first, he lunged to his feet reaching for a weapon, then realised who he was with. 'Tem? What the hell happened?'  
'Cas sent us home.' she gestured at the trees around them, where they had arrived on earth. 'We did it.'  
'Yeah?'  
Sam groaned and raised his head, gritting his teeth. 'My head.' he winced.  
'You're lucky, mine was cracked open.' she helped him up, dusting him down briskly.   
He lumbered out of the clearing, towards the Bunker, Dean dragged his feet a little, looking whey faced and shading his eyes from the sun.  
'I'd kill for a dirty martini.' she decided, squinting at the too bright path. 'Do we have olives?'  
'I don't know.' Dean spoke weakly, then a thin laugh rumbled out of his chest. 'We did it?'  
'Yeah, well, Cas did.' She agreed, flashing him a smile that, for once, didn't feel forced. She was relaxed, she felt good, she felt better than good right then.  
'I need a shower.' she said, gravel crunching underfoot as they meandered to the door.   
'Eugh, me too.' Dean grunted, sniffing his arm pit and pulling a face.  
'Can I join ya?”  
They spun, arms raised, knives drawn. Lucifer was lolling against a tree, a wide grin splitting his face. 'Howdy kids!'  
'You're alive?' Dean asked.  
'Looks like.' he winked 'Feeling good as new too, thanks for the help up there.'  
He sauntered towards them, stopping in front of Temperance. His smile settled into something threatening, she rolled her eyes at him and was about to turn away, when Dean bumped gently against her shoulder, blocking her in.  
With a scowl he put a possessive arm around her, she raised her eyebrows at that, but didn't pull away. Lucifer smirked, his eyes twinkling.  
'I'll be waiting on your call.' Lucifer put a hand on her shoulder, kissed the top of her head and vanished.  
'Dean?'  
He spun her around, holding her at arms length. She had a moment to register the desperate look in his eyes, and another the realise it was too late to pull away.   
He kissed her.  
His lips moved firmly against her, his tongue already flicking out to pull her into a deeper embrace. His fingers were in her hair, she could feel them wrapped around her skull, holding her as close as he dared.  
He broke that kiss, that kiss she still didn't think she had wanted. He rested his forehead against hers. His face was beautiful, she had always known that, it was a little more careworn than when they had met, but as pretty as ever. He had thick eyelashes, there was something delicate about his cheekbones and the line of his jaw, his lips seemed too plump, too kissable.   
Her hands itched to touch the curve of his throat, to feel the bounce of his pulse on her tongue, but she didn't. 'Dean.' she said again.  
His eyes opened slowly, green eyes swimming in tears. 'Don't, please don't' he begged, he pecked his lips against hers once more. Then he stepped back, clearing his throat and sniffing. 'Ok, lets go.'  
She let him take the showers first, only daring to go in when she heard his bedroom door slam. The water didn't ease the tension that had built up in her muscles, but it sloughed off the grime and relaxed her enough so that she fell into a deep sleep as soon as she reached her bed.  
They didn't speak about, Dean didn't avoid her but a look in his eyes seemed to say that he couldn't talk about it. Not now. Maybe not ever.  
She wondered what she felt, she wasn't sure if she was being honest with herself or not. The aching sensation in her heart, and, the slightly more pressing one between her legs, didn't go away. Dean, she thought, couldn't fix the fact that she was still angrily in-love with Crowley. He was dead and she wanted to raise him up and kill him again, but that anger wouldn't stop her loving him. If anything it made it all the more acute.  
She loved him and he was dead.  
Dean was alive.  
She tried not to dwell on it, too much.


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His hand hand reached out, without a thought and he brushed a knuckled over her cheek.  
> Those cheekbones could cut glass, he thought, a little more drunk than he had realised, but they were warm and soft and his had ached to cup them. She would fit so well against him, so perfectly. He hand found her hair and ran his fingers through it.  
> 'You're drunk.' her voice barely rose above the sound of the climatic robbery playing out on screen. Dean nodded, yeah he was drunk, but the pull of her lips was magnetic, and he wanted it...
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

They took a break, which lasted exactly 3 days, then Sam appeared with a case and they piled into the car, back to the road, it was almost normal. The pressing fear of Hell and their deal with Lucifer did dampen things though.  
Sometimes Temperance felt Sam's eyes on her, sometimes Dean's, always fearful, always clogged with pity. She wasn't about to change her mind on this, she was getting their dad back, she was going to Hell. She made a deal.  
They had stopped at a restaurant, in a small city, and Sam was looking for hotels when Temperance saw a familiar face wink from the bar.  
'What would you do.' she interrupted the brothers. 'If I told you the Devil was making margaritas behind you.'  
Dean blinked. 'Is this a joke or one of them parables? Like, Hell's empty and all the Demons are here?'  
'No, he's at the bar, wearing a uniform.' she knocked back her wine, it tasted like vinegar, she had no palette for it, and stood. 'Excuse me.'  
'Don't!' Dean put a hand out, gripping her wrist, she looked down into his trouble face, something soft bloomed in his eyes that she didn't want to disagree with.  
'Dean?'  
'Howdy.' Lucifer appeared, tugging her back into her chair and sitting beside her. 'You guys are all looking well, Sam, have you done something new with your hair?'  
Sam's grip on his fork became dangerous, his knuckles were white with the strain of it, Temperance was surprised that the silverware didn't begin to bend.   
'I just wanted to drop by and remind you that times-a-ticking.' Lucifer added, folding his hands neatly over the tablecloth.  
'We know.' Dean spat.  
'I have your daddy's soul and his body all ready to go, which took quite a bit of effort on my part. If you don't keep your end of the bargain I may have to start carving holes into him.'  
Temperance, never afraid to act without thinking, picked up her butter knife and drove it into Lucifer's spread hand, pinning it to the table. She met his snort of surprise with a sweet smile, then wrenched the implement free.  
'Don't threaten me.' she wiped the knife in her napkin, folding it neatly on her empty plate.

'Oh my dad! You stabbed me!' he chuckled, then clicked his fingers, bringing them all to a windswept roof, a terrace set high above the city lights. 'I'm feeling a whole lot better, you know, feeling more me. Lucifer, Prince of Darkness, Father of Lies, yada-yada, and your continued defiance is beginning to wear thin.'  
'Told you you would get bored of me.' She shrugged, Dean shuffled slightly, putting himself half a step in front of her.  
'We're keeping up our end of the bargain.' he snarled. 'We got rid of Michael and saved your ass, now we're having some downtime.'  
'Downtime.' he wandered to the railing and Temperance briefly contemplated pushing him over the edge.  
'How do we know its really Dad?' Sam put in, he spat his words down at the ground, unable, unwilling, to look at the Devil. The force of his anger, disgust and fear, was almost a palpable thing.  
'You don't trust me! We were roomies, partners, working together!' He threw up his hands and spun around. The moonlight caught a strange flicker in his eyes, the usual fiery gold was dulled to a spark, a crimson ember.  
'How about I go down and check, make sure its the real deal?' Dean said. 'Then Tem knows she aint being double crossed.'  
Lucifer smiled, his face crinkling with devilish delight, then he bent his neck to look at Temperance again. 'Was it a good kiss? Or more of a virgin at bible camp sort of a fumble?'  
She flushed, a rush blood splotching her cheeks while Dean seemed to wilt before her. Lucifer had gotten a lot of his power back, she could feel it radiating off him, if he could read minds she needed to get the boys away from him, sooner rather than later.  
'Shut-up!' Sam said, suddenly.  
'Shut-up?' the Devil's face fell back into a frown. 'Me?'  
'Yes, please do, we're gonna honour our agreement, but Dean's right. I want proof.' Temperance put a soothing hand on Sam's arm, felt a tremor of strained muscle under her touch.  
'You wanna come down and check first?'  
'Yes.' she said, before Dean could interrupt. 'Then I'll head back up, tell the boys and thats that.'  
She didn't like the sudden mirth in his face, or the way he rubbed his hands together like a blue-bottle fly on rotten meat.  
'Come down anytime, hon, I'll be waiting.' he said, darkly, then another click and he was gone.  
Temperance went in search of a door to get back inside, before Dean could begin to argue with her.  
'Kiss?' she heard Sam ask, his voice was laced with disapproval..

They skipped the hotel and drove home, Sam stayed quiet until he thought that Temperance had fallen asleep.  
'You wanna talk about it?'  
She cracked open an eye, carefully, watching the back of the boys heads in the front seats.  
'Nope.' Dean glared at the road. 'It was a mistake. Okay, a one time thing.'  
Sam snorted, derisively. 'Yeah, sure.'  
The sun began to rise, haloing them with pale light, and they pulled into a new looking gas station, it wasn't that much further to the Bunker, but she decided to get out and stretch her legs while Dean stocked up on a few basics.  
She felt like she could count her time left on Earth in minutes, hours maybe. The Devil always got his dues, after all.   
Sam had picked up a local newspaper and was leaning against the car flicking through it, she wandered into the store, glancing at Dean who was weighing two packets of jerky in his hands. There was a small deli, empty save for a woman cleaning down the glass. The girl, woman, was attractive, 40ish and blonde. Of course she was blonde, she probably had daddy issues too, Temperance could smell them a mile off. Her name was Emma, she lived nearby, she wrote her number on a sandwich wrapper and passed it over the counter.

'Do you flirt with everything that moves?'  
'Most things with a pulse.' she agreed, sparing Dean a look in the mirror. He all but leapt from the car when the arrived home, hurrying away as if he was avoiding them.  
'Tem?' Sam asked her, reluctantly. 'Is there something going with you and Dean that I should know about?'  
'No.' she picked up the back of food and marched to the kitchen. 'Spur of the moment, yay-we're-not-dead, thing.'  
'Okay.' he didn't sound convinced, and she still wasn't either.  
While the coffee brewed she wrapped a hand around her emerald pendant, the cool stone bitting into her palm. Crowley would be fuming, she could practically see him in her mind, shaking with rage. 'Fucker.' she muttered to herself.   
Sam was rooting out clean cups, he passed her the tea caddy and started to put away the groceries. They sat in silence a moment, only for Dean to poke his head in, looking abashed.  
The smell of coffee had drawn him out again and he sat down with a transparent attempt at ease. She had to ask, hated to do it but had to.  
'Was he watching, or was he reading your mind?' She asked Dean, pointedly ignoring his embarrassed squirm.  
'I don't know.' he grunted.  
'We need to stay clear of him if its the latter, you know that.'  
'I was thinking that too.' Sam added, fiddling with the milk jug. 'Is there a way to stop him looking in our heads? How do you do it?'  
She shrugged 'I think its an Angelic thing, I'm not doing it consciously, its my Grace. Sometimes, in that other Universe, I felt him trying to get into my mind. I was weak then, but he couldn't get passed Amara, I guess.'  
'Damn.' Sam pulled out a notebook and read quickly across a few pages. She glanced at it, he had neat handwriting, blocky and densely spaced. The margins were lined in red pen and the headers were underlined in green.  
Dean took the coffee pot from its cradle and set it down on the tabletop, he glanced quickly around then said in a tiny voice. 'I don't regret it.'  
Sam was absorbed in his task, she wasn't uncomfortable saying 'I'm glad.' but she wasn't sure what else to say, it seemed enough, Dean was looking down into his coffee, pouring in sugar with a smirk.  
'Do you remember, when I played that song with Chuck?' she asked them, gazing into the murky depths of her tea.   
Sam stiffened in the act of pouring fresh coffee and laid a heavy glance on her 'Yeah.' he said, shortly.   
'Prophecy, or, I don't know, an outline. The blurb for Chuck's story. He wants me down there, sans wings, sans whatever I've got for a soul, sans Winchesters.'  
'You gotta admit, you could do it.' Dean said, in a low voice, a voice she didn't believe for a moment, but she wouldn't press it. She wouldn't fight him on this seeing how badly he needed to make it all right, she changed the subject for him.  
'There's a Classic Western screening at the drive-in theatre outside of town, run by hipsters but its cheap enough.'  
'Yeah?' He perked up. 'Whats playing? You wanna go?'  
'Sure.' she rose, disappearing into the showers, feeling a little more lighthearted then she had when she walked into the kitchen. 

Dean fidgeted, cleaning out the cups and coffee pot then turning to Sam he said. 'Lets walk.'  
'Walk?'  
'I gotta talk to you about something.' he crossed his arms while his brother laced up his boots.  
'Whats up?' Sam was looking wary as they stepped out into the cold air.  
'Is she?' he wasn't sure how to phrase it. 'Is she thinking about going this alone?'  
'Going to Hell?' he asked, a troubled look on his face 'I think so, yeah.'  
Well that was pretty on brand for her, Dean reasoned.  
'I don't know what her breaking point is, Crowley knew, he always knew when enough was enough. She doesn't have a tell, like, shit, when you need a break you start eating burgers instead of salads.'  
His brother grinned at that and nodded in agreement. 'Yeah, and you quit eating and go super-hunter, taking every case going without fail.'  
'Ok, so whats her tell?' Dean waved a hand back at the Bunker. 'What gives her state of mind away. 'Cause it seems to me I never catch it, I just wake up one day and she's off the rails. How do I know when she needs a break?'  
Sam frowned down from his great height, slumping his back to stuff his fists into his pockets. 'She doesn't crack, she just explodes, its who she is. All or nothing.'  
'Yeah.' Dean agreed, glancing back at the room. 'Thats the problem.'  
He remembered them driving to go stop Cain, she had been a waif in the backseat, sunken eyed, lethargic and probably crashing off something illegal. He never wanted to see her that bad again, never, the trouble was he thought she might be there, but better at hiding it.  
'A lot has happened for us recently, there hasn't been a let up because its just, well, its ongoing. This thing with Michael and Lucifer hasn't put to bed yet, its still not finished.' Sam scrubbed a hand through his shinning hair, then heaved a deep sigh.  
'But after.' Dean's voice dropped 'After that she'll be in Hell, maybe forever.'  
'Yeah.' Sam agreed, dully. 'She hates this shit, you know, hates it. Did you hear her with Amara?'  
'No, what happened?' He had been a little distracted by God dying that day to notice what Temperance was saying to the distraught Darkness.   
'Amara asked what made her happy and she said it was choice. Having choices and making her own decisions, free will, thats what made her happy. This plan, with the Devil, this isn't a choice at all.'  
'Pre-destination, yeah, she does hate that shit.' he hated it to, destiny seemed relentless.  
'She's doing it for us, more than anything, you know that right? She wanted to save the world a bit, maybe, but not that much. Once Lucifer offered Dad, well, that was it. She knew she didn't have a choice, or she felt like she didn't regardless of whatever Chuck wanted.'  
'Do we have a choice?' Dean asked, miserably, gesturing between himself and his brother.  
Sam stilled, whipping his face around to look at him. 'Dean?'  
Did they have the choice to leave their father suffer in Hell, it had been different when he was in the Cage, with no way out, Dean had lived with that purely because there was no alternative.   
He was almost in reach now, his soul, in a body, alive and waiting. Could he leave his father to suffer torture and die and be tortured for all eternity, because he didn't want to give the Devil a Knight. Temperance could hold her own, he was sure of that, she would hate it, she wouldn't be happy, but she would survive. If she went to Hell she would cage Lucifer and take over, but she wouldn't come back. There was no coming back.  
'I don't feel good about this. About her doing this. It's not sitting well with me. Even it means getting Dad back.'  
Sam kicked at a loose stone 'I don't like it at all. I want to, 'cause its the only plan we have, but I don't. It feels so, so, wrong. We send her in without a proper way to get back out. What if Crowley's thing doesn't work, what if she's stuck and she's not powerful enough. What if Lucifer locks her up and tortures her and we can't help! Theres too many ways that this will go wrong.'  
'All I ever do is ask her to hurt herself.' Dean mumbled, not looking at his brother. 'All the time. I treat her like a weapon to be loaded up and pointed at whatever shit is coming. Sam, I don't know why I do it, I push her and push her and I keep her distant and I don't know why.'  
'Is that why you kissed her?' Sam asked after several tense moments. 'Were you trying to give her something?'  
He shrugged, honest answer was yes, but it was a complicated yes, he wanted to give her a part of him. He wanted her to know that he loved her.  
'Do you like her?' Sam asked, when Dean remained silent. 'Come on, Dean, it's an easy question. You either like her, you know, that way or you don't.'You're all bent outa shape over something and you gotta tell me what.'   
He stopped under a dead tree, a few grey leaves hanging on to its thin branches and glared down at Dean.  
Dean agonised over his words. 'It's just, what if she does like me, and I'm telling her to literally go to Hell, cause I need her to. What is that going to do to her?'  
'You're my brother, man, and I love you, but what the heck does that mean? You think she likes you is that it? You don't want to reject her and hurt her feelings?'  
Something shuffled in the bushes, a skunk, and they hurried back to the road.   
'What if I push her towards staying and then I resent her for it? What if I start hating her for making me choose between her and Dad?'  
'Dean, stop it. You're dancing around the subject.'  
He was, he swallowed, it was too hard to say, I love her and I want to be in-love with her, I don't want to loose her. He had already asked her to give up so much. He glared at the bushes instead, praying for another skunk to interrupt them. His heart was hammering, why were the words he reached for so heavy in his mouth. He would never blame her for loosing his Dad, he would never resent her for that. He might hate himself though.  
'You like her.' Sam pressed 'You kissed her.'  
'Yes.' he whispered, finally admitting it. Saying it out loud. 'I really like her and I'm shit scared.'  
'How long has this been going on?' Sam had adopted a hushed tone, as if he was a priest practicing for a bedside confession.  
'For a while. For a really long while. Since before we met John.' a weak smile ran off his lips at the thought. Could he pinpoint it, the day he started feeling more that a friend would for her. Was it when she banished her mother and slapped a band-aid on his head, smirking all the while, or was it before that, was it the very first moment when she appeared high as a kite and insulted his car. He didn't know, it had happened and he didn't know when. He just knew that it had happened.  
Dean, thats.' Sam seemed to search for the words 'Why have you said nothing?'  
'She doesn't want me. Not like that. I kissed her, I didn't mean to and, well. Fuck. I don't know Sammy!' He had kissed her because he was afraid of loosing her, he kissed her because they kept almost dying. He kissed her because if he didn't he would regret it, forever.   
'Ok, well,' Sam sighed 'That doesn't matter right now, if you're not ready to deal with that.'  
Dean shook his head, kicking a loose rock into the undergrowth. He wasn't ready to deal with it, he was too afraid to. He was a coward, a useless coward. He scowled, a rush of self-loathing built behind his eyes. She would never want him, never love him, he wasn't powerful, like John, or rich like Crowley. He was nothing, no-one.   
'Dean.' Sam's sigh called him back to the present, to the road they were walking down. 'I love her, ok. She's family. She's been on board for everything we have been through and she does it all for us, you know that. She took the Mark for us, she died for us. We've helped her out too, I'm not saying that its been a one sided relationship, we're family, we help each other. She doesn't want to go to Hell, so I don't think we should let her. She would fight tooth and nail for us, and we spent years not being honest to her. We treated her badly, we acted just like Crowley did when he lied to her, we dragged her into a mess and she thought it was her fault! We put her in a position where all she can do is die for a cause she doesn't believe in.'  
'But, I mean, God made it her destiny.' Dean swallowed, he could hear that song echoing in his head. The piano and guitar wrapping around his grey matter, promising something.   
'No!' Sam scowled. 'Shut up, God or no God. She's our family, we protect our own. You're worried about the wrong thing. I don't care if you're in love with each other and what that means for the plan. I don't think this is destiny, ok, I don't think Chucks on her side! It doesn't matter if you've got the hots for each other or not, we shouldn't be telling her to go. End of.'  
Dean hung his head, looking ashamed, and his brother stomped away to the Bunker leaving him to brood. He wished he could talk to Chuck, pray to him, he needed guidance, he needed something bigger than himself. He wished, bitterly, that it wasn't his father's life on the line. As he neared the heavy metal door he realised, it didn't have to be. 

'We get Dad's soul back, we send him on to Heaven, where the Devil can't go.' he jabbed the table for emphasis. 'We get his soul back and then we deal with Lucifer.'  
'But.' Temperance began, looking concerned.  
'Dad died already.' Dean's voice was gruff, he shared a look with Sam, who gave him a firm nod.  
'Thats not too big of a change of plan.' Sam hastened to add, as Temperance still looked dubious. 'Its a little double cross, get his soul and you don't go down to him!'  
Temperance was dangling her pendant and watching the light refract off it, she didn't answer, just raised her stormy eyes to Dean and nodded.  
He thought then, with a clarity that surprised him, that was her tell. When she was about to break she would blindly follow along with anything. He remembered seeing her memory of Crowley when he was after the Angel Tablet. How she agreed to help without question, with a vacant disregard for her own wellbeing. Thats was how Crowley knew, that was her tell.   
'First though.' he improvised. 'We're taking the weekend off and going to the Drive-In.'  
'Huh?” Sam raised his head.  
'Yup.' Dean spun away and picked up his car keys. 'We've worked hard, we've had a tough time, need some R&R before going up against Hell.'  
Temperance had her upside-down smile on, she reached forward and pulled the tabloid paper towards her, flicking to the back where the ads and classifieds were. 'The Western showing starts at 7pm.'   
'Lunch now, chill, then get snacks at the movie.' Dean felt for his wallet, in his front pants pocket next to his brass knuckles. 'Damn, you think they do chilly-dogs?'  
'Oh god.' Sam scrunched his nose 'No, you guys go, I'll stay here.'  
'What you don't like chilly-dogs?'  
'Dean, you're my brother and I love you, but I am not sitting through another Western with you, ever again.'  
'If this is about the Tarantino one, I told you, they usually aint that bloody!' He pleaded 'Come on, it will be fun.'  
'If he doesn't come, do I get to sit up front?' Temperance raised her head from the paper.   
'Sure.' he took a swig from his tepid coffee.  
'You gonna hold the popcorn on your lap?'  
He snorted, mid-gulp, coffee burned through his sinuses and he coughed into the cup. When he emerged, flushed, she winked.  
The kiss. Dean felt it looming over him at every glance, he watched her mouth move and knew what her lips felt like, he watched her breath and knew what it was to have her chest pressed against his own. He wanted more of that and he was shit scared. 

She ate, like she properly ate, he was a little fascinated to see that. When had she started eating again, he hadn't noticed, god there was a lot of things he didn't notice when it came to her. He tried to keep himself blind. Like he definitely didn't notice how sheer her dress was, how much skin was exposed with those tatty fishnets. He could make out her bralette and hot-pants under the mesh fabric and tried to pretend that he didn't like it.   
She looked good, less waiffishly thin, still unkempt and disheveled, but that was just her style. She toed off her boots and pulled her knees up under her chest, eyes fixed on the screen, they picked a double feature Tall in the Saddle followed by The Train Robbers. 'John Wayne is a child in this! What year was it? She asked.'  
'Um, 1944? He's the same age as you when he was in this.'   
Dean quickly flicked his eyes back to the screen, kicking himself mentally for staring. On screen Arly had thrown a knife at Rocklin's back, 'Terrible aim.' he muttered, as the actors embraced.  
'She just wanted to scare him, let him know that she could have killed him.' Temperance reasoned. 'Not my style at all.'  
He laughed, loudly 'Didn't you stab John when you met?'  
'Exactly.' she nodded, primly crossing her ankles. 'I didn't miss.'  
The credits rolled, and lights in the lot began to come on as people dashed to the bathroom, or out to the diner for food.  
He risked another look at her, she looked like a teenager, a college kid, she looked too young to be there with him. 'I was gonna get a beer, but I don't know if the guy in the booth will serve you.'  
'Story of my life.' she sighed. 'I can't seem to age up any more, I tried, I'm just stuck.'  
'How do you do that?' he turned around to look at her, almost knocking the gear stick with his knee.  
'Think about it, I mean, really think about it. It takes energy and you feel like shit after it.'  
'Whens the last time you did it, the last time it worked?'  
She looked at herself, briefly, in the wing mirror. 'When I got the the States, I still looked 16 then, it was embarrassing. Its not instantaneous, comes on gradually over a few days.'  
'So you can't do it now and go get beer?” he chuckled. 'I'll do it.'  
'No need.' she bent forward to rummage in the glove box and pulled out a flask, which she poured into his half empty soda cup and stirred with his straw. 'Dark and Stormy?'  
'Huh?” he sniffed it.  
'Ginger-ale and spiced rum.' she clarified, taking a gulp. 'I'll sober you up before the drive home.'  
They joked their way through the interval, he felt himself scooting a little closer as the next film began. He had never seen this one, it wasn't great, he hoped the Pinkerton guy turned out to be cool though. 'You seen this before?” he whispered to her, forgetting for a moment that they weren't in a cinema.   
'No, one of his last, wasn't it?'  
'Yeah, must be.' he reached for the rum, his hand brushed hers and he pulled back, quickly 'Sorry.'  
She pressed the straw to his lips 'You drink first.'  
He met her mischievous eyes, glinting in the dark and snorted. 'Did you spike it?” he took a pull from the straw and made a face. 'That is 90% rum!'  
'Its awful isn't' it?” she nodded, taking a drink and shuddering.  
He laughed, eyes fixed on her rum softened lips. 'You like your liquor to burn, call me old fashioned but theres nothing wrong with a good beer and a good bourbon.'  
'Bourbon tastes like sugary shit.' she countered, pressing the flask into his hands once more. 'Booze should hurt enough to make you question your life choices.'  
'I do that anyway.' he muttered. His hand hand reached out, without a thought and he brushed a knuckled over her cheek.  
Those cheekbones could cut glass, he thought, a little more drunk than he had realised, but they were warm and soft and his had ached to cup them. She would fit so well against him, so perfectly. He hand found her hair and ran his fingers through it.  
'You're drunk.' her voice barely rose above the sound of the climatic robbery playing out on screen. Dean nodded, yeah he was drunk, but the pull of her lips was magnetic, and he wanted it.  
It was barely a kiss, a brush of their mouths and the lights came up, bathing the drive-in in hot, yellow light. Temperance jumped in her seat, cleared her throat and clicked her fingers. Alcohol flushed out of Dean's system and he snapped to face the windscreen, his cheeks burning red.  
They drove in silence, crushing embarrassment buttoning up Dean's lips. Just tell her, he raged with himself, tell her you want her. He did want her, so much, even the flaring embarrassment couldn't lessen the knot in his gut or the desperate ache that was beginning to become a problem, in his pants.  
She all but fled the car as he parked and he banged his head on the wheel.  
'Stupid, stupid, stupid.' he moaned.   
A knock on the door started him, he hurried out of the car. She was watching him, a frown marking her face. Before he could think of something to say, she closed the distance between them and kissed him.  
Her tongue was warm, insistent, he opened his mouth and drank her in. Fuck. He pulled her close, she was so slight, barely there, but her skin was boiling hot against him. He couldn't think and he didn't fucking want to.  
Euphoria tingling in his veins, he turned her around, without breaking that kiss and lifted her up against the body of the car, her strong legs wound around his waist and she arched her back, pressing down against the painful bulge of his crotch. She dropped her hand, exploring him with an almost shy smile.  
He liked that, liked the flutter of her eyelashes, the girlish smirk on her soft lips. She palmed him through the denim, a flush of colour staining her cheekbones as he whimpered.  
'Tem!' he gasped, then a groan tore from his throat as he felt her bullet hard nipples through the nothing of her shirt. His mouth flooded suddenly, wanting nothing more than to latch onto her breast, to taste her. He groped at her chest through her lace bra, pulling the fabric aside and moaning into her open mouth as she shivered. Yes, yes, yes. He wasn't thinking, he was just reacting, her body responding to his stroking his ego the way he needed.  
She found his ear, tortured him, slowly, with her tongue. Yes, that was good, he was bundle of desire and she was pressing all the right buttons.   
He needed to move he needed this, it was her, it was Temperance, he wanted her. He fumbled for the door handle then stopped, he could feel the hard, sharp, edge of her necklace against his sternum, He looked down at their bodies, before breaking away with a pained grunt.  
She was panting against him, her fingers, clawing at his neck. 'Dean?'  
Not here, he felt how wrong it would be, not here, not in the back seat of his goddamn car in the middle of nowhere. No, it couldn't be like that, not with her. He had to do this right.  
'I.' his body, his dick in particular, was screaming murder at him. He pulled back, gently untangling her legs and setting her on her feet. He shook his head.  
He noticed the flicker of anger in her eyes, but it passed and she took a deep breath.  
'Ok.' she said, she reached up, tentatively to kiss his cheek and walked bak to the door, leaving him in the dark.  
'Fuck.' he dropped his head to his arm and leaned against the car. 'Goddamn it'  
He counted a full five minutes then stood up, heading to his room. His feet stooped at her door, it was closed, no light filtered through the gap. He began to raise his fist to knock, but something stayed his hand.   
He wanted more than she could give him and he knew, with a horrible, gut churning, clarity, that he couldn't sleep with her and go back to being friends, housemates, whatever they were now. He couldn't cross that barrier no matter how tempting it was.  
She was going to Hell and she might not come back and she didn't love him, not the way he wanted her to. If he knocked, she might not say no. If he knocked he would ruin everything.   
He could smell her on his clothes, he could taste her on his tongue and feel her in his hands. He lay down in his bed, burning a hole through the ceiling with his stare. He wouldn't be able to look at her, she wouldn't be ale to look at him.  
'Fuck.' he muttered, in the dark, rolling over and punching his pillow into shape.


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'He was defiant, to the end, even when I broke him and had him in chains.' Lucifer put his hands around her waist, holding her firmly in place. 'Will you be like that?'  
> 'What makes you think that you could break me?' .......
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

Halloween, Temperance squinted at the bat decorations in the tiny green grocers. It had been years since she enjoyed Halloween. Being raised with the knowledge that monsters exist and the Devil is watching, took most of the fun out of it when she was a child.   
The nearest town to the Bunker was a quiet place, it had a College, a small hospital and a grotty nightclub called the Palm Beach Club. No one seemed to think this strange, though they were miles from a the sea.  
A local sports team was running a fundraiser at the club, a flyer next to the checkout in the shop promised music and dancing, and fancy dress. She took a flyer, put the milk carton back in the fridge and wandered down the road.   
The club was packed, the music was surprisingly ok, and the booze was cheap. Temperance snuck in the back, eyeing the artfully inaccurate pentagrams before crossing over them. There was a pair of glitzy fairy wings hanging off the back of a chair, she took them while no one was looking, shrugging them over her shoulders and blending in with the already drunk crowd.   
They were too young, too stupid, too caught up in their brief beauty. She felt ancient by comparison, watching them dance, flirt, drink and exist. They were so soft, so delicate, and they didn't realise it, they were a slight fall away from death, a brief illness from the end of all things. She wondered how many of these kids were alive because of Sam and Dean and Hunters like them.   
She shook herself, trying to fight off the morbid turn of her thoughts. One night, she promised herself, just like old times. Alone, on a dance-floor, head-banging to The Clash. She wanted to pretend just for one night, that she was normal, that life was normal. Only nothing ever worked out as planned.  
'Nice costume.'  
He flashed a smile, tugging on his dog collar and raising a large plastic cross. 'Spookiest thing I could think of, a righteous man in a dress.'  
'Are you following me?' she checked herself, a little run-through from head to toe, he wasn't tracking her, not as far as she could tell.   
Lucifer moved closer as the music changed abruptly to a slow, almost sorrowful tune. Portishead, she let out a little huff of surprise at that and was about to move towards the swaying crowd when he put an arm around her, pinning her down to the bar stool.   
'Maybe I am.' he said, with a mocking little smile.   
Lights were flashing overhead, making shadows of the decorations, his arm was like iron against her back, not wanting to make a scene she cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting. He waved over the bartender who put down two plastic mugs of fizzy yellow beer and paid him with a shinny black credit card.  
She chugged one beer, shook the empty at the bartender and fished out cash for another.  
'So, whats going on with you?' she asked when the second pint had arrived, in a similarly awful state as the first, it was more than half head and far too cold to taste.   
'I came to give you a visitation date. So you can come down and see pappy Winchester.' he had drank a mouthful of beer, made a face and set it down again.  
'Oh.' she was looking over his shoulder, trailing a pair of shifty dealers as they passed around something to a girl dressed as a doctor and a guy in a slutty GI-Joe get up. Doing any drugs around the Devil would probably come back to haunt her, she reasoned. It might help with the outsider-syndrome she was suddenly feeling though, she blinked, looking back to the beer and found Lucifer was studying her face.   
'What?'  
'You're pretty, you know that?' he leaned down to whisper it in her ear. His breath was hot and uncomfortable, but she didn't try to pull away. She had slipped the knife out of her sleeve and had the point to his ribs.  
'Any closer and I'll fucking gut you.'  
'Oh, honey, always playing hard to get.' he purred.  
'I'm not drunk enough to let you hit on me.' she felt, in her heart, this night was already over and slid off the stool, making for the exit. He followed, plucking a feathery pink scarf from a laughing woman as he went.   
'So, you wanna come down now?' he threw the scarf around her shoulders and spun her around in the cold air.   
It was bitter, a damp wintery chill covered the town. The music cut off abruptly as the heavy door swung closed behind them leaving nothing but a puff of ghostly confetti to remind her of the fun she had almost had.   
Lucifer had spotted a group of kids carrying little plastic buckets of treats and went over to them. She saw, for the first time, that there was blood on the hem of his cassock.   
'Hey little Witches, 10 dollars for the lot?' he asked, pointing to the bags they were clutching.  
The youngest, wearing a pointed witches hat, scoffed 'Twenty, mister.' she said.  
'Deal!' he took her little pumpkin, packed with sugar and E numbers and looked at Temperance.   
'Can you spot me 20?'  
She fished cash from her pocket, eyeing the American sweets without excitement. She was always more of a DairyMilk kid, Hershey's never did it for her. Not that Cain had been big into store bought products, the only time he had ever let her have brand name sweets was on her birthday, or as a reward for finishing a good Hunt, or cello recital. Sometimes, when she bit into a mint or a toffee, all they tasted like was fear and exhaustion.   
'You're a disgrace, you know.' she said to the Devil, mildly.  
He unwrapped a lollipop, lopping on long legs down the sidewalk. 'Thought that you wouldn't appreciate theft.'  
The phrase 'candy from a baby' flashed in her head and she looked back at the retreating trick-or-treaters, they all looked alike enough to be sisters, or close cousins. Their pointed hats and plastic broomsticks disappeared round a bend and she found she was nodding. 'Yeah, might have stabbed you for that one.' she said, thoughtfully.  
'So, you coming down with me?' he spun around, holding out a hand.  
'Am I coming back up here if I do?'  
'I promise.' he purred.

'Are you following me, though? Seriously, stalker alert.' They arrived in Hell without fanfare, it was colder here than the street had been.  
'No, but I ordered any of mine to let me know if they saw you around. Wanna make sure you're not going to run off on me.' He bent down over her and was leaning in close, his lips approaching hers.  
She slapped him.  
'One day I'm gonna start stabbing you.' he said, lightly, working his jaw to ease the sting.  
'Gives me an excuse to stab back.'  
'You need an excuse?' he sounded exasperated.  
She shook her head, loosening her knife with a careful movement.   
'Show me Daddy Winchester so I can tell the brothers its legit, then I'll be back. I'll come down properly, open a gate with the blood of an Angel and all.'  
'Really?” he looked skeptical, narrowing his eyes and frowning down at her.  
She had decided to do this, not matter what last minute scheme Sam and Dean thought up, she knew it had to be done and something deep inside her wouldn't allow her to vary from the plan. Opening a gate to Hell was like entering a contract, it was a binding agreement as old as time itself.  
She didn't like that, but she went with it.   
'Cross my heart.' she rolled her eyes and held out her hand.   
He shook it firmly, then smiled. It was a strange smile, it wasn't wide or leering, nor small and tight. He believed her, he believed she was agreeing to his version of the future, which of course, she wasn't.   
Chuck had told her to take the Throne and Cage the Devil, he had told her in a song when her heart had been missing, and she was going to do that. Even though no one deserved a Cage, its not like she could kill him, Michael could have, but not her.  
There was deceit in her nature, murder and lies from the cradle to each grave, she couldn't afford to be worried that her confidence was misplaced. She was lying to the Devil, and he was eating it up, Crowley would be proud.  
'How come you were alone up there?' he nodded upwards, sauntering down a dim corridor and spinning his plastic cross.  
'I wanted to go to a party.' she mumbled. He didn't need to know she was avoiding Dean, he didn't need to know she was desperate to get shit-faced and fuck something, that was all a very private matter.  
'I'll throw you a better one!' He clapped his hands.  
'With real magic and ritual and a better DJ.'  
'I can get all that in London.' she smiled at the memory of a magic den in Soho, she had only been once but it was enough to make her want to avoid them. Newly immortal Witches with their charmed good looks, half trained mages and shitty Demons all vying to get laid before the night was out and nobody had seemed to care that the Prodigy were playing the damn thing.   
He lolled against a pillar, still deep in nostalgic thought about Soho he, Lucifer, momentarily reminded her of Constantine, she had to shake the image from her head and concentrate. She couldn't afford loose thoughts around him, she had fucked up once around him before and never would again.  
'Why did you stay in the States and team up with the American Dreamboats exactly, that country doesn't seem like your kinda place?'  
'They asked me to, and I was lonely.' she spread her hands, palms up, as if that was an obvious answer.   
'So, you really don't care about saving the world and protecting the innocent?'  
'Love, if I did I'd have joined the fucking Justice League.' she rolled her eyes, ignoring the needle in his words. She didn't believe the world was black and white, he couldn't shame her about that.  
'You're not a Hunter by design.' he mused  
'Nope, I'm a musician going through a rough patch.'  
'You're not involved in this by your own efforts. Why did the brothers pick you, who got them to?' he wasn't really asking her, just thinking aloud. Tapping his lips, fidgeting with his fingers. He spun the wedding band around, drawing her eyes to it.  
'I can see my dads fingerprints all over this, dang, I thought it was recent, but now I reckon He's been pulling the strings and nudging you closer to Hell for a while.' he squinted at her, the flash of gold from his eyes trying to see into her soul. That void was too dark, even for him, she thought.  
'Yeah, I'm starting to think that too.' it had all happened too neatly, Dean had barely flinched at her mother being Abaddon before asking her to move in.  
'So, you're not happy with Him?' He walked around her, slowly, and she tensed, waiting for an attack.   
She felt the air move at her neck and her eyes flashed to black as huge winds unfurled from her shadow, arcing electricity coiled around her fists and sparked in the flaring torchlight. She spun, Blade raised.  
The Devil shrank from her. 'Relax kid, Jeez!.'  
A tremble in the air, the light faded and her wings seemed to diminish, her eyes were still black when she said, stiffly. 'Don't act so fucking creepy!'  
'I was just looking.' he pouted.  
She sighed, trembling still from her outburst. 'Please, just stop playing with me. I'm not a fucking toy, as much as everyone seems to think I am.'  
'I know, hon.'   
She had the horrible feeling that he did know, that maybe he almost understood her. She didn't look at him, too afraid of the weight of the lie she was hiding.  
'Kid, I really want you down here where I can keep an eye on you.' he said, taking her down a familiar corridor.  
'You're powerful and the World means nothing to you, you're wasted up there chasing ghouls and goblins.'  
'I'll be down soon enough.' she swallowed her nerves, eyeing the creeping shadows of Hellhounds that prowled the prison. One of them stopped and trotted towards her, it put its muzzle to her throat, nuzzling. She reached to scratch behind its ears.  
'You're one of Misty's puppies, all grown up.' she muttered as the hound whined, trying to get more attention.   
Lucifer looked disgusted, his body falling into a slump as if he was helpless in the face of her ways. He shook his head. 'They're supposed to be scary, killers, ya know.'  
'I'm a scary killer.' she pointed out, patting the hound on the rump and shooing him away to his duties. 'Crowley used to let me play with them, when they were little.'  
'You tamed my dad-damned beasties! Ugh, why am I even surprised.' he beckoned her to follow, still shaking his head.

The cells were much as she remembered, rough hewn and dank. She peered through the bars of one and saw a very still figure hunched by the wall.   
'He isn't awake yet.' Lucifer explained, opening the door. She tried not to shudder as she went in, of her own free will, very aware she might not come out again.  
The body was alive, in a sense, there was a soul in it, though it was held in stasis, half-way between life and death. He seemed too young to have two full grown sons.  
'How did you manage to get him this body?'  
'Asked a Reaper, then, um, killed said Reaper.' he mimed a slicing action, as if he had an invisible scythe.   
'Are they actually real?' she crouched down, trying to sense something Winchester beneath the body before her. She had heard about Grim Reapers, she had never really believed in them, though, she thought wryly, belief had always been her problem.  
'Yep!' he put a casual hand out, touching her back. She felt the heat of it through her fairy wings and shirt.  
'I don't know if its him.' she pointed out, she frowned at his face. She had seen pictures, and she could see Sam and Dean in the skin and bones, but it might be a trick.  
'Can I check his mind?  
'You want more proof then this?, Be my guest.' he shuffled back, crossing his arms and leaning agains the wall. 'Don't take all day though.'  
'Sorry, do you have pressing plans?' she muttered, scowling.  
She put her hands on the body and let her eyes slide closed, she quickly dismissed the idea of pulling his soul free, she didn't really know how to do that, and there was no time to get it done with the Devil watching.   
Temperance went into the mind instead. It was like being pulled down a water slide, she couldn't control the speed of it as she sank into the mans consciousness.   
Her feet hit the ground, she looked down, amazed to see her body looking solid. Fishnets, minidress, leather jacket.   
She was standing in a tumbledown looking scrap yard. A man had his back to her and was bent over a battered Ford Bronco, its boxy body listing to the side on a crumpled chassis.   
'Looks hopeless.' she offered, moving forward. There was something off about this place, a sort of softness in the distance that made her see the dream for what it was.  
He cursed as he banged his head on the hood and looked up, his mouth flapping open. 'Well, pardon me, excuse the shit out of my goddamn French. Can I help you?'  
It was the man in the cell, with his face animated he looked shockingly like his sons. She laughed, then said with as much warmth as she could. There was Dean's cocky scowl, there was Sam's all too serious pout. He rubbed a rag over his greasy hands and threw it into the engine block.  
'I'm Temperance.' she held out her hand and he shook it.  
His hand was big and calloused and it engulfed hers.  
'John.' he replied, flashing a charming smile. 'You're right, it is hopeless.'  
His smile began at the corner of his mouth and worked across, like something being unzipped, Sam did that. She couldn't help but notice all these things, she had never looked like anyone, Cain looked like Cain, Abaddon looked like whoever she had stolen away to wear. Strange she never let herself think about Micheal, when she thought of her parents he wasn't even in the line-up.  
'What brings you here?' John asked, he flicked his eyes over her, a little too appreciatively.   
'I've a Ford Capri and the expansion tank is shot.' Not a lie, she didn't know if he knew this wasn't the real world and there seemed no point in startling him if he thought that it was.  
He nodded, turned around and dragged a tarp over the Bronco's exposed innards. 'Not sure if I have any, classic dealership might be better for you.' he lead her to a little tin cabin and pulled out a greasy log book.  
She looked around, spotted a photograph on the desk. 'Oh, are these your kids?'   
The boys in the picture were younger than she had even known them, gangly, spotty, teenagers in sports caps. Sam was a giant, even then.  
'Yeah, thats my two boys, Sammy and Dean.' he picked it up, smiling. 'Haven't seen them in a while.'  
The light outside, which was inside his head, just like she was, dimmed slightly, as if a cloud had been drawn over the sun. The dream world reacting to his turmoil.  
'A while.' he said again, frowning. Then he hitched on a sudden smile and the sun came out full again, bouncing off the dirty windows.   
'Well nothing in the book, I can phone around, if you're staying in the area?”  
'Oh yeah, I am.' she invented wildly. 'Up by Bobby Singer's place.'  
'Hey, now, new neighbour. You just moved in?'  
'Sort of.' she glanced around, the edges, the places he wasn't focused on were soft and ill defined. She picked up the photo and pressed it into his hands.  
'Your sons.' she said, hoping this stuck.   
'They love you, so much. They're coming to help you.'  
A troubled frown creased his face. 'What?'

She pulled back, fleeing his world in a blink. 'Hmm.' she said, standing up.  
'Satisfied?'  
'Guess so.' she followed Lucifer from the cell, watching him move. He bounced on his toes as he walked, like the body he had taken might have had tight tendons. Each step began with the balls of his feet and his heel never quite came down.   
'How do you keep him like that?'  
'I have you're friend Crowley to thank for that one. He used it for torture when he couldn't spare the time, but as you can see I am being very good and using it to be nice.'  
'Yes, you're a real peach.' she said, in her deadpan tone.  
'Crowley would have fucked with him, you know, he fucked with Bobby Singer. Stole him and tried to drive him nuts.'  
She smiled suddenly, a fleeting image of Crowley trying to justify himself popping up in her head. She laughed, it echoed strangely on the rock and Lucifer seemed quite startled to hear it.   
'God love him, he was great.'  
'Great?' that quickly changed his confusion to a deep scowl.   
They had reached the palace proper and Lucifer led her through a door into a familiar office. He hadn't changed a thing about it, the desk, the blotter, the gold pen. She crossed the grey flagged floor and stroked the inkwell with a finger.  
'Gus almost killed me in here, once, when I was a Demon.' she said, sadly.  
'And you liked this guy?'  
'Of course. I knew a version of him. Just a version, a good one, it was fucked up and clever and vile and malicious and unfailingly loving. That was Gus, my Gus.' she tugged at the pink feathers still draped around her neck, shredding one between her nails.  
Lucifer was standing very close to her, she had noticed the predatory gleam in his eye before, and was irritated, but unsurprised, when he leaned down, breathing into her face.  
'He was a jumped up little shit. He would do anything to save his own skin, he wanted power and he liked people to think he was suave but all he was, was an idiot who got lucky. He was a snivelling coward.' He dropped his voice to a hiss, a curious look on his face, he seemed to peer through her again.  
She thought he must be looking for pain, heartache, something human. She gave him nothing.  
'I'd appreciate if you kept those thoughts to yourself. He was so much more interesting that you.'  
'He was defiant, to the end, even when I broke him and had him in chains.' Lucifer put his hands around her waist, holding her firmly in place.   
'Will you be like that?'  
'What makes you think that you could break me?' she whispered this as seductively as possible, arching up towards him.   
He wrapped a hand around her neck, then, drawn to her pulse, he lowered his face to her throat, inhaling her scent, his tongue dragging over the exposed skin.   
'I'm gonna really enjoy trying.' he murmured. He had her in his arms now, his hands spanning her narrow back, she felt his fingers exploring the muscle and bones, pushing through her skin. He bit down on her ear, slicing neatly through a piercing, there was blood on his teeth when he pulled back to smile.  
'Try harder.' her knee shot up into his groin, he grunted, in surprise, but didn't let go.   
A pained chuckled escaped his lips and he bent to kiss her, on the mouth this time, she tasted her blood.   
'Oh, honey, I'm really looking forward to this!'  
He took her arm and walked her to the Throne room, vibrating with joy. 'I have great plans, huge plans. Once we've got enough power together I'm making a bid for Heaven, then we can remake the World in my image!' he sat down, clapping his hands together.   
'A world where humans worship me! Without God's propaganda makin' em all crazy for Him. Ah! Its gonna be so good!'  
'Thats it?' she looked around at the Throne room, it was untidy, dusty, it had a distinctly abandoned look about it and the rubble from Michael's last visit was still heaped about. 'You can't do that, you don't have the power to create a new world.' she found a rusty stain, that she was pretty sure was her own blood, from when Michael had captured her, and rubbed it with the toe of her boot. He was very uninspiring, unimaginative. She was a little disappointed, she had expected something more, something clever, something better.  
If she gave Crowley the world he would have had something better in mind, well, better for himself, but he would have had a grand plan. It might have included worship, but it also would have included quotas and business empires and scams and cocktails.  
'Yeah.' Lucifer shot her a sour look, then reached forward and pulled her onto his lap. 'But I think you might have that creation power, deep down. What would you say about having a kid?'  
'No fucking way.'  
'Just one! We don't even have to raise it, just have it then we can consolidate its power with mine and I can do, well, anything! I can do everything God said I couldn't. Everything!'  
'So, you just want to be in charge to spite your dad?' she looked him over, his knee shook a little, jostling her in her seat.   
'I want to take over existence from God, can't you be a little impressed with that idea?'  
'He's not exactly watching over the shop.' she pointed out.   
'He's gone.'  
'Yeah, but it will still be difficult, it will still take cunning and strength and power. Lots of power.'  
'Which you don't have.'  
'Don't have yet.' he stroked her neck. She used to have scars there, big lumpy ones where her skin had all but melted.   
She reached up, pressing his hand more firmly to her pulse, so he could feel the truth of it. 'Don't have. Won't ever have.'  
'Yes I will!' he shoved her away, petulantly.   
'I was his favourite. He loved me the most, I'm the last Archangel left, the most powerful being in the Universe.'  
'Really?' she asked, sweetly. 'Then why do you need me?'  
He shot her a look of such venom and loathing that she found the Demon part of her brain rejoicing for it. She was itching for a fight.  
'You want to take down God and I want what you can give me. Don't try make me mad, Temperance, I'm stronger than you and you know it.'  
He was, but she walked away, smiling, it was nice to see what was under his mask. He was a broken little boy, waiting for his daddy to notice him.   
'I'll see you soon, I guess.'

She woke up Dean, bending over the cheap bed to shake his shoulder. She clamped a hand on his wrist as he went for his gun.   
'Shh.' she soothed. 'Only me.'  
'What?” he said, groggily.  
'I went to Hell, saw your Dad. Its him, he's there, he's in a sort of enchanted sleep.'  
'You saw him? You spoke to Dad?' he sounded more awake now and reached to click on the light.  
'Yeah. He's hot.'  
He sat up, scrubbing sleep from his eyes, then caught sight of her little stash of chocolate and sugary confectionary in its plastic pumpkin.  
'Trick of treat?' she asked, offering him a peanut-butter cup.  
He flashed a smile, tracing the fairy wings on her back, as he plucked at the feather boa scarf with a curious hand. 'You go to a party?'  
'I tried. Satan showed up before I got a dance in.'  
'You should have said.' he cleared his throat, nibbling his chocolate. 'I would have gone with you.'  
'To a college fancy dress party?' she sat on the bed, legs crossed.  
He made a face, a grimace 'Ok, maybe not.'  
'What would you have dressed up as, sexy cowboy? Sexy vampire? Sexy ghost?' she ticked off.  
'They don't have to be sexy, they're supposed to be scary costumes!' he argued, poking through the lollipops.  
'Prude.' she snatched the little pumpkin vessel away.   
'Hey wait!' he called, halting her at the door. She turned around, expectantly.   
'Dad, its really him?'  
'Yeah, the real deal. We're going to save him.'  
He smiled, his head ducking back to the bed. 'Good, thats good.'  
She watched his face, his kind face, but couldn't bring herself to go and hug him, it wasn't just the Devil she was lying to, after all.  
'Goodnight, Dean.'  
'Wait!' he suddenly called from the bed, as she reached for the door handle.  
She turned around, expectantly.  
'Did you say ' he's hot'?'  
Smirking she took her sweets to the kitchen and dumped them on the table, next to the fruit bowl. She wanted a drink, she wanted ten drinks, but all there was in the house was cheap beer and something that may or may not be rubbing alcohol. She sniffed that one, yes, definitely rubbing alcohol.  
The fairy wings were held on with thin elastic and they dug into her shoulders, she pulled them off, dropping the pink feathery thing on-top.  
'Oíche Shamhna a bhí ann.' she muttered 'Something to do with braic.'  
'What?'  
'Jesus!' she spun around, Castiel was standing behind her. She waved off his question, the brief memory of the junior school rhyme had risen half formed in her mind and fled again.  
Castiel looked much as he always did, slightly pained and very neat, but she was suddenly, violently, concerned by something she couldn't place.  
Temperance felt a change in him, her spine wanted to twist away and shudder in his presence. She looked at where his wings should be, gently flicked her Demon eyes over him and said.   
'You're different.'  
'I have ascended to power, with the blessing of my Brothers and Sisters.' he exhaled through his nose, rolling his lips over his teeth and back again  
'Yeah? So you're in charge up in the happy cloud land, then.'  
'Yes.' he answered, his jaw seemed tight, like he was stressed.  
'Do you want to go somewhere and talk? Somewhere private.'  
'Yes.' his hand on her shoulder, a gentle pressure. 

She noticed the smell first, the warm smell of a city after dark, a waft of grass and water. They were sitting on a bench in a city park, a few wrought iron lamps gave off a warm glow in the velvet night.   
'Is this?' she looked around, trying to find a marker. 'Are we in Singapore?'  
'I enjoy this park.' was his answer.   
Temperance waited for him to speak, he was clearly thinking through something, his expression flitting across his face in quick succession. He put his hands together, elbows resting on his knees and spoke to the ground.  
'We are both troubled.'  
She agreed, with a nod.  
'You go first.' he urged.  
She didn't know where to begin, she took a moment, arranging her thoughts into a semblance of order.  
'Cas, I'm shit scared. I'm afraid of getting stuck in Hell for fucking eternity.'  
'A reasonable worry. Why are you resigned to this plan to go to Hell in return for John Winchester?'  
'I guess the saving people thing of Sam and Dean really rubbed off on me at one point.'  
'Temperance, John is a Hunter, he knew what he was doing stepping into the Cage. He did not expect to be saved.' Castiel's gravelly voice was even deeper than usual as he spoke in a tone pitched only for her to hear.  
'Well, its not him I'm thinking about.' she felt suddenly uncomfortable, the air was too warm, he was too close, she put a finger under her collar and pulled open her top button.  
It was a feeling of being watched, of eyes on the back of her head.  
'Sam and Dean.' Castiel said, the names grave statements on his tongue. 'You wish to save them.'  
'Yeah.' he was right on the money, she wouldn't deny it.   
'From what?'  
'Me.' she answered, honestly.   
He reached across the bench and took her hand. He had nice hands, neat nails and soft skin. The body he wore hadn't been shaped in hardship, though he had put it through a lot over the years.   
'Tell me, why are you agreeing to go to Hell, why have you accepted the Almighty's plan when you continually say that He is not your God?' he asked, pressing forward into her silence.  
'I feel like I've forgotten who I am. I feel like I've been struggling to exist for a really long time. I feel wrong.'  
'Temperance.' he squeezed her fingers and made her meet his eyes. 'When I was fallen, without Grace, you came to my aid though you no longer had any desire to do so. You had no heart, no proper feelings, but you choose to aid me all the same.'  
'Yeah man, I lost my heart, didn't mean that I was a complete cunt.' she rolled her eyes at him. She knew her own morals, if nothing else, they were murky, but they were hers.  
'Do you understand how strange that is? Do you understand how many contradictions are woven into your very nature. Angel, Demon, Human, a Hunter who does not believe in good or evil, a child raised as a Killer who choose to create instead.'  
He shook his head, as if to convey the absurdity of it all. She liked how free he was around her these days, she enjoyed the intangible connection that they had, it was warm and soothing.  
'I do not for a moment believe that you are bound by anything as simple as Destiny,' he continued.  
'So?' she dragged out the word, unsure of what he was getting at.  
'Sister, when you gave up your Grace you were not a Demon, when you became a Demon you were not evil, when you lost your heart you did not stop being Human. I believe you are more powerful than you will ever accept and I believe God does not want you interfering in his plans for the Earth.'  
'Careful, I think you're about to be sacrilegious.' she teased, but her heart was thumping in her chest, fear heightening her senses.   
'Perhaps.' he straightened his already very straight shoulders.   
'Temperance, I think God has enchanted you to accept this Destiny, the woman I know would not agree to it, you are too passive, too ready to act as God wills. It is not you. You have said that you feel wrong and I agree that you are, something powerful is forcing you down a path you would never choose. I believe that God has done this to you.'  
'Fuck.' she blinked.   
She couldn't remember what she had felt like before loosing her heart, she could barely remember what she felt like before taking the Mark of Cain. She looked at Castiel, the Angel who had held her Grace, the new King of Heaven. The Devil had said that god had been pulling the strings for a while and she had agreed with him. She nodded, once.  
'Is that whats been troubling you?' she asked.  
He nodded, glumly.  
'We must not act differently until we can be sure God is not watching. Until then I urge caution, there are too many lives at stake.' Castiel stood, pulling her with him, and transported her back to the Bunker.  
The Halloween treats were still by the fruit bowl, the crumpled fairy wings and feather boa in a tangle on a chair. Temperance blew out a breath and reached for the cheap beer she had passed over earlier that night.  
'You love Dean.' He spoke from the doorway.  
She looked down at her beer, frowning, it wasn't a question. 'It would be easy to.'  
'You will not allow yourself to.'  
She briefly wondered when he had become that perceptive, then thought on his words, seriously. 'Yeah, and, well, I'm not over Gus, I'm barely over Constantine.'  
'Don't hide behind the dead, Sister.'  
She watched a spider crawl down a thin web and zig-zag between the toaster and the wall. It was a terrible place to build a home. Was she hiding behind the dead, or was Castiel reading the situation wrong.   
Some conversations could only be processed after a few drinks, she decided, and she was better at drinking than thinking. She knocked the top of the bottle with the back of a spoon and flicked the cap, like a coin, on her fingers.  
'He thinks everyone will leave him in the end, and I will. I can't give him hope.'  
'Temperance.' he paused, crossed the floor and took the cap from her fingers.  
'Tem, thats not very punk rock of you.'  
She cracked a grin, at that, he was getting better at playing human, for the King of Heaven.  
'Shut up.'  
'No.' and he vanished.


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck rose, clapped Sam on the shoulder, squeezing gently. It was a fatherly gesture, meant to be reassuring, but it was anything but that. Sam didn't know when he started seeing shades of grey, when the world stopped being black and white for him, every never in his body screamed at him to run. Chuck wasn't good. God wasn't human......
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

What is there to say when you think god is fucking with you, Temperance didn't know and she was annoyed about it. She spent most of the last few years annoyed about something, this, however, was serious.  
It was more serious than the Mark, or Crowley, or John Constantine, because it overarched them all.  
Castiel hadn't contacted her again, he told Dean he was very busy in Heaven, and she didn't think that was a lie, but wondered if there was more too it. Was he staying away to avoid Chuck's attention, or was he giving her thinking space.  
The first week of November was wet and wild, a storm blew through, shaking dead leaves from the trees in the woods and making the Bunker look more bleak than usual. Temperance was in Sam's makeshift gym, which was less makeshift then when he had started, he had got equipment in on Crowley's dime, not shy about using the new Credit Card.   
She was on the rowing machine, cycling through her last reps, when Dean called her, from the hall.  
'Yeah?' the brothers were in the library, heads close, bent over Sam's laptop.  
'Lucifer is fucking around again.' Dean growled.  
'We think that he's calling in contracts, gathering souls for something.'  
'He said he wanted to take over Heaven, probably getting in shape for that.'  
'What, like, using their power to augment his?' Sam looked up sharply.   
'I was going to say eating them, but your way sounds smarter.' she felt sticky with sweat and wanted to shower, so she didn't sit down.  
'Did he say anything else when you were with him?' Dean couldn't seem to meet her eyes, she wondered if he was thinking about kissing her and regretting it.  
'Flirted a bit, asked if I'd have his child and, eh, he thinks god is fucking with me.'  
'Fucking with you?' Dean looked at his brother, then finally up to her.   
She wanted to tell them about Castiel, but couldn't, not until he let her know it was safe to do so. So she shrugged, trying to show them she wasn't worried.   
'He's a weirdo.'  
'So you were in good company.' Dean was rubbing his temples, in a manner that never boded well. He was gearing up to get annoyed about something. She decided to run to the shower before he started arguing.  
'I'll be washing my hair if you need me.' she spun around and hurried towards the bathroom, she could hear Dean scoff from the door. 

It was three days until Castiel appeared, he assured them all that he had warded the Bunker more effectively than it ever had before, but he refused to talk until they were sitting in the Impala, which he had reinforced with Enochian symbols that should hide them from anything.  
'Why cant we do this in the kitchen?' Dean asked.  
'Because the Bunker was built with magic in its very mortar, and all of that magic would welcome God.'  
'And we aint?'  
'No.' Castiel shook his head. He was seated in the back, next to Temperance, and he looked at her now.   
The magic pressing around her was bringing on a headache already. She could feel things inside her beginning to bulge and press forward, trying to find a way out.   
'It has not been safe to discuss until now, but I believe God has been magically influencing Temperance and possibly you two, to accept his recent plans for her Destiny without proper argument.'  
'But we have been arguing against it.' Sam reasoned.  
'No, you have not Sam.' Castiel shook his head and looked at Temperance.  
'Chuck wants me to go to Hell, then suddenly Lucifer wants it to. He offers something that we can't refuse and we all agree to it. I know it was me who said yes to begin with, but the second I told you about it I know you both agreed, in your hearts. Does that not seem suspicious to you? Chuck wants something, Lucifer wants something that makes Chucks plan easier and Lucifer offers us something that makes his plan seem fair. So we decided to do it, the end point is always me in Hell.'  
She felt a weight lifting off her chest as she said all this. It had been there, in the back of her mind, heavy and hard and festering.  
'End point is sneaking you back outa Hell!' Dean said, gruffly.  
Castiel was nodding along.   
'From the things Temperance has said, and done, I believe she is being gently compelled towards God's plan, she is being led. The magic was placed on her when her heart was absent, when it would have been easier to use magic against her as she could not feel it. I suffer to say it, and I am ashamed to say it, but, I no longer believe that God is a beacon of goodness, light and virtue. He is writing a story and we are pieces being moved against our will for his entertainment.'  
Castiel looked distinctly grey when he finished this proclamation, but it was nothing compared to the bloodless pallor of the brothers. Their horrified faces hung over the backs of their seats, their eyes were too bright as they both riveted their gaze onto Temperance.  
'I agree with him.' she said, putting her hand on Castiel's shoulder.   
'Holy shit.' Dan breathed, his nostrils flared as he tried to stay calm.  
Sam was shaking his head, in disbelief 'No, no way. I know I said I was pissed off before, you know, that I felt like we were trapped in a story with no way out, but no. God, I mean, he's God! He loves us, loves the World, he didn't make it for fun!'  
'We know there are other worlds, we know that he calls his creations his stories, we know that he grows bored and lets things go to shit, to see what will happen.' Temperance reasoned, feeling she was probably a little too biased against him to make this argument. 'He locked up his sister, like a petulant fucking child, because she ruined his games. He twisted everything to his liking. You asked before, Dean, why Gus sent me when you needed a magic user, well, I don't think he would have chosen me, not at all. I think it was Chuck, pulling strings. He put me in your life so he could write me into his story, because you guys are the heroes in his tale, he has control over what happens to you because he's had your epic fucking Destinies written since 'let there be light'. He brought me to you, so you would bring me to him and now, well, now he can write me out.'  
Sam was still shaking his head, his face had taken on a green cast, like he might vomit if he stopped. Castiel put a hand to his head, soothing him with his Grace.   
'I don't, I can't' he gasped, turning to his brother.  
'Its OK Sam, its OK.' Dean rubbed his back, trying to stay calm.   
'No its not! Dean, look at the shit that is our lives! I almost let Satan loose on the world and Dad went to the Cage to keep him locked up.'  
'And he's only out again because I killed Cain.' Temperance put it, in a low voice.  
'We've brought about the end of the world before, we have done that Dean!' Sam went on. 'It was all so fucking inevitable, we did that because He wanted us to! Is that it!'  
'Shh, Sam.' Dean threw a worried look at Castiel.   
'So what do we do?'  
'I do not think that there is much to do. I think we must not let it show that we do not trust Him.' Castiel put a hand to his neck and loosened his tie.  
'Tem! What can I do? Tell me what the hell I'm supposed to do!' Dean demanded.  
His green eyes were fierce, pained and wild. She looked away from him, tracing the stitches in the leather car seat.   
'I don't know, Dean.'  
'Well, why the hell did you decide to tell us all this then!' He all but roared, there was a vein throbbing in his temple, his cheeks were flushed with anger.  
She shook her head, opened the door and slammed it shut, leaving them men in their safe space she went outside and she decided to walk until she was too tired to think. 

Dean glared at the space Temperance had occupied until his eyes felt dry, he blinked, slowly looked at Castiel. His friend looked terrible, there was a sadness to him that Dean had never seen before.   
'So our plan is what now?'  
Sam took a shaky breath. 'We let Tem go to Hell, in exchange for our dads soul and then she cages Satan and takes over. Thats it.'  
'What if we just closed up Hell, closed the Gates, would that work?'  
'Well the last time we tried that we really fucked up.' Sam pointed out, still pale and shaking.  
'Listen.' Dean pulled Crowley's last letter from his pocket and handed it to Castiel. 'Crowley reckoned that Papa Midnite could close the Gates. Maybe he's powerful enough to cage Satan too? We could work Crowley's contract so it could be used for this Papa guy.'  
'He's the Voodoo priest that Tem used to work for, why did Crowley tell us this?' Sam was scanning the letter.  
'Crowley promised to close the Gates with us, this is him keeping that promise. He left us the information to get it done, in case he wasn't around to do it himself.'  
Castiel took his Angel Blade form its sheath and held it tightly, as if it might anchor him somehow.   
'I do not believe we can alter Crowley's contract, he worked powerful magic to make the reserves of Hell bow to her command, to try to undo that may waste them, completely. Temperance will need them to rebuild the Cage.'  
'But if Hell is closed wether or not Lucifer is in the Cage wont matter.' Dean pressed.  
'Yeah, he'll be stuck!' Sam was looking more lively now, some of his colour returning to his face.   
'He shall not be, he has the power to move between the planes of existence. Also, he would seek terrible vengeance on the soul of this Papa Midnite, there is a high probability that the Witch will not agree to it, out of fear of retribution.'  
'Tem could do it after she defeats Lucifer?'  
'Tem wont do it' Dean said, bluntly. 'I didn't need Crowley to tell me that, she was against it the first time we tried. Only way she would agree was if Heaven was locking up too and even then she might not!'  
Castiel was silent, when Dean looked at him for his support he shook his head. 'I have deceived Temperance in the past and she has forgiven me, she gave me her own Grace and aided Heaven in its liberation, I can't lie to her. I have no plans or desire to close the Gates of Heaven. I'm sorry.'  
'But, come on, a chance to get rid of the Demons for good!'  
Castiel brought his troubled face up to Dean 'You understand it will trap her there, eternally, she is not Lucifer, she is not an Archangel made to rule Hell. She is bound by other rules.'  
'It wont trap her if she aint there while we do it.' Dean pressed, he was pretty sure once they had her back on Earth that they could contact Midnite and get it done without her knowing.   
'If she has claimed the Throne of Hell and banished Satan, then closing the Gates will drag her back there and she will not be able leave. Not ever.'  
'Crowley wouldn't want that.' Sam said, slowly. 'He didn't know what we would be up against when he wrote this letter Dean, he didn't know about Chucks grand plan.'  
'Why is everything a goddamn dead end!' Dean scrunched up the letter and threw it against the dashboard. 'Why cant we win!'  
'God is not on our side for this, he wants her out of the way.' Sam swallowed, thickly.  
'But why! She's just a normal fucking person, she never even wanted to be a Hunter she just got into it! She aint a threat to him!' Dean looked at Castiel while he spoke, begging the Angel for answers.  
'She's too powerful. She is more powerful than she should be.'  
'Should be?' Dean frowned. 'The hell does that mean?'  
'Dean. You know it, you might not admit it, but you know that she could be as powerful as Lucifer. She is an abomination, made without the knowledge of God, our Heavenly Father.'  
'She's a punk chick with a goddamn tragic backstory, alright, she aint anything else. She's just herself, she doesn't want to hurt anyone, or destroy anything. God should be there for her, like he's supposed to be there for everyone!'  
'Supposed to be, but never is.' Sam said, looking afraid to give that thought voice. 'Cas, can we try and talk to him, can we try and make him see that this isn't right?'  
'He is not here.' Castiel pointed out.  
'Could we pray?'

She sent herself to Europe, she needed at least one continent and ocean between her and Dean right then and she had been meaning to visit Amsterdam. She took the tram through the city and out to an ugly suburb built in the 90s. She raised her hand outside number 18 and knocked on the door.   
'Virtue?'  
Mark had designer stubble now and wore glasses. They were the same age, she knew she didn't look it. His mouth dropped open, then he boomed a great laugh, threw his hands around her and pulled her inside.  
They had travelled together from Ireland in a van, playing music and pretending to live some wonderful dream. He had a good job now in something techy where he got to play with computers, his wife was Dutch, his kids were chubby.  
'How the fucking hell are you fucking doing!' he had pressed tea into her hand and they were sitting in his untidy kitchen, he looked thrilled.   
'Good enough.' she answered, letting his smile grow one of her own. 'Less punk than I'd like.'  
'Tell me a-fucking-bout it.' he threw his eyes up to heaven. She could see his tattoos under the collar of his shirt, the piercings on his ear were still open, a new one in his cartilage. He looked good, he looked like himself.  
'I'm on a flying visit, I'm back to the States soon. I just wanted to see you, say hi.'  
'Stay here, change your flight! I know a great bar with an open slot tomorrow, we can wow the Dutch with our sound. Shit! My wife will love to meet you, she's a good cook and all, we can live it up.'  
He was always so enthusiastic, so pleased at little things and ready to throw himself into the joy of living. He was almost the opposite of her, she thought, it was nice to be around him. Even if he was from Cavan.  
'Next time.' she lied. 'I've a job to go to.'  
'You?' he smacked her arm playfully 'Theres no way its legal, did you get a green card in the end?'  
'No.' she snorted.  
'Temperance Adams, you utter disgrace, think of the example your setting for my kids!'  
'Hey! Feck off, I'm the best example of what not to do!' she put her hand in her pocket and pulled out a box, wrapped hastily in grocers paper. 'This is for you, memento of our glory days.'  
'Think I'm still living those.' he tore off the paper, unveiling a stack of old polaroids. He went through them, smiling softly. There they were in all their youth and glory, there was the van, there was the squat. Suddenly he looked up at her, frowning.  
'What?'  
'You wanted to keep these when we left the U.S, you said you wanted to remember it all. Why are you giving these to me now?'  
She hadn't seen him in years and he was still as fucking perceptive as ever. He had been the one who knew things, not matter how high or drunk, or stupid, they got. He saw right through her.   
'I got into some deep shit man, some really bad stuff and I can't get out.'  
'What, like, drug dealing?' his troubled frown deepened. He put a hand onto her arm and held her there.   
'Do you need help, Vir, is that it?'  
'No, not like that.'  
'I'll help! Tell me whats happening, come on, is someone trying to hurt you?'  
She laughed, bitterly, unable to stop it. God was, but she couldn't tell Mark that. 'I wanted to give them to you so you could pass them on to your kids and someone would have proof that we were young and stupid once.'  
'Vir?' his eyes narrowed, she could taste the concern radiating off him.  
She hadn't meant for it to go like this. This was wrong, she shouldn't have come.  
She stood up suddenly 'It was really good to see you again, man. I have to go, I'm sorry.' She dashed from the house.   
'Temperance!' He called her back, he was searching for shoes and hurrying after her, she rounded a corner and threw herself through space, landing badly in America.  
'Shit.' she admonished herself.  
She just wanted to see someone normal, someone happily disconnected from the supernatural. Someone who knew her as she was.  
She was ashamed when she started to cry, but she couldn't hold back the tears. 

Her fragile mood did not improve when she went inside and found Dean in her music room.  
'Where did you go?'  
'Walk.' she said.   
'I'm sorry I got angry.' he did look sorry, he fiddled with his sleeves, rolling them up.  
'Thats, fine.'  
'Are you, um, doing ok?'  
'Fuck no.' she breathed, as tears were summoned back to the surface. She let them fall, looking down at her boots. She needed new shoelaces, these were pulled tight and frayed. Shoelaces were the least of her fucking problems though.  
'Dean I am fucking terrified. Our genius plan to jam the Devil back in his hole is to use a store of power we cant test, that we don't really know exists and to hope that I don't die doing it. I die all the fucking time! Dyings my favourite fucking thing to do, its the most fucking fun you can have with your shoes one. Christ!' she wiped her eyes, raised her face up to his.   
He opened his arms and she fell into his embrace. 'Tem, Crowley would never hurt you, if he says the power is there and you can use it, then you can. He will have made it that way.'  
'I'm angry at him, I don't trust him anymore. He took my heart away and I think god made him, I think he was played with, like we all were, but he's dead now. He's gone.'  
'Well, I trust him.' Dean ran his hand down her head, through her hair. 'I trust him.'  
'I don't want to go.' she said at last, spitting the words out. She had to force them up her throat and out from behind her teeth, it was exhausting and she sagged into Dean's arms. He kissed her head, like he couldn't help himself.   
'I don't want you to go.' he said.  
'Your dad.' she pulled herself free, scrubbing her eyes clear.  
Dean's breath had hitched, his fingers clenched on empty air as she moved and he hung his head. 'My dad.'  
'We can't leave him down there, we can't.'  
He nodded, clearing his throat 'Sam, um, Sam wants to talk to God about all this.'  
'Better him than me.' She said, shaking her head and leaving him alone, she wanted the solitude of her bed fro a while. She wanted to sleep.  
'Wait, hold up.' he had followed her, taken her arm and turned her around.  
'Tem, I'm with you, ride or die.'  
Ride or die, she watched him for a moment, then nodded. He might even believe that. With a heavy heart she had to admit that she didn't trust him either, she didn't trust anyone.

Sam broke the lock on the old bar, he was confident that he wouldn't be disturbed in there, it was an almost abandoned part of town and this place hadn't been open in years.  
He took his time trying to make it as attractive to god as possible, putting up Enochian symbols and cleansing it with holy water, then sage, then salt. He figured he'd try everything, irregardless of creed, then he sat in a booth and bent his head in prayer.  
'Sam.'  
'Chuck! God!' Sam hovered, halfway between wanting to bow and wanting to run.   
'Hey! Its real good to see you, I felt you were looking for me. Figured out of everyone I owe you and Dean a visit.' he flashed a smile, put down his guitar and slid into the booth. He had the same jacket and shirt on that Sam had last seen him in, the same curling hair and neat beard.   
'Um, how's Amara?'  
'Oh she's great! We've been spending lots of time together, she's in her Nothing at the moment. Meditating on the nature of existence.' he snorted a laugh.   
'I think the time she spent in Temperance's head really gave her a taste for existential dread.'  
'Sounds about right.' Sam tittered, nervously.   
'How is she doing? I heard about everything with my son Michael, that must have been tough for her.'  
'Yeah, she's making some pretty off colour jokes about being orphaned. So, you know, she's talking about it, I guess.'  
Chuck nodded, hands clasped, Sam was put in mind of a kind, but disappointed, principal. The twinkling smile, the authority layered over the easy going nature. It shrove something within him, he felt a tremble in his soul when his god looked at him.   
'So how are things here? I've been shaking things up, Amara really gave me a new perspective, she was right, I got really distracted with my stories, so I'm sweeping the board clean, getting back to basics.'  
'So, you ended all your other worlds?' Sam was pale and sweating now beneath his coat, a fluttering panic shifting across the planes of his face. Castiel had been right.  
'Yeah, I'm focusing on this one, my numero uno!' Chuck winked, pointing his fingers in the air.  
Sam sagged, whether with relief or fear it was hard to say, he folded in the middle and dropped his shoulders. Chuck watched, impassively from his seat, the head of the steel guitar cupped in one fist. Sam looked at the instrument, he felt like he was looking at an axe, a gun, a dangerous tool in the wrong hands and he had to work to suppress a shudder.  
'Tem.' but Sam couldn't say anything else, he wet his lips with a dry tongue and tried to steady himself. 'Tem is ready to go down and cage Lucifer, like you said, in that song.'  
'Yeah, its a good destiny. She's perfect for it, can you imagine a redemptive Hell? A place where lost souls can learn from their mistakes, isn't that good?'  
Chuck had a shinning light in his eyes, wonder and hope and Sam didn't buy it for a second.   
'Yeah, yeah it is perfect.' he mumbled.  
'I get that you're sad about loosing a friend, Sam, but she's not gone, she's not dead, she's serving a greater purpose and she will like it! I mean, hey, most of her friends are in Hell anyway, she wont be alone.'  
Sam managed a weak smile at that, a pang in his heart made the gesture an empty one. 'Is there any other way?'  
Chuck rose, clapped Sam on the shoulder, squeezing gently. It was a fatherly gesture, meant to be reassuring, but it was anything but that. Sam didn't know when he started seeing shades of grey, when the world stopped being black and white for him, every nerve in his body screamed at him to run. Chuck wasn't good. God wasn't human.   
'Sorry, Sam. Really I am.' he heaved a great sigh.   
'I was half thinking of bringing Fergus back to life for her, but, I don't know if that would be as good as it looks on paper.'  
'She might kill him if she sees him again, after she's done kissing him I mean, she's still not over him but she's not at all happy with him.'  
'Women, eh?' Chuck looked around the empty bar, he wandered over to the window and peered out. 'Well, I'm sorry buddy, I gotta go. Work to do.'  
'Yeah, yeah, of course.' Sam hastened to his feet. 'Listen, thanks for dropping by.'  
'No problem man!' he pushed open the door and strolled out, Sam watched him down the street, then he vanished out of sight. He collapsed back into his chair, heart racing and struggling for even breath.   
He thought he had known fear before this, he thought he had been afraid, he thought he had felt dread. All of that was nothing, nothing at all compared to the last few minutes of his life. He managed to drag his hands together for Castiel and latch onto him for a ride home, where he went to his room and stayed alone in the dark. Not ready to be anything other than a shaking mess, not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The penultimate chapter! I hope you are enjoying it! Any questions, suggestions or help would be lovely :)


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam sighed, folding the page up. 'We really don't have any more options, do we?'  
> 'No.' she agreed. 'This is it.'  
> He could have offered her platitudes about saving the world and the greater good, to his credit he didn't. He followed her to her music room where she let him choose a record to play. His hair was beginning to recede at the temples, she noticed, making his hawkish cheeks all the more prominent, when he sat, head in his hands, she was put in mind of a weary bird of prey, gazing down at the earth below its talons......
> 
> I do not own and am not affiliated with Supernatural or Hellblazer.
> 
> Chapters bounces between a few different POV - its still in draft form.

November dragged on, it never seemed to dry out and the grey sky played havoc with everyones mood. The horrific realisation that the boys did not have god on their side had sent Dean into a downwards spiral, Temperance lost count of the beer bottles he dragged out of his room while Sam gently tried to stop him taking wild cases all over the country.  
'We're Hunters!' he spat, closing the laptop wth enough force that Sam winced for his screen. 'Its what we do, we take cases and Hunt things!'  
'Yes, but we research first, we take cases where we know there is supernatural element, not just every murder and robbery that pops up online.'  
He wasn't soothed and hid himself away in the garage, a few hours later Temperance decided to run to the Take Away for noodles and put her head around the door to ask what he wanted.   
The garage was in chaos, organised chaos, he had layered out a tarp and methodically stripped her engine down. He had his head and arms in under the car bonnet, doing something at an awkward angle.   
'What the fuck did you do to my car?' she knelt and put a hand onto what looked like the throttle body. 'Dean?'  
'Its loosing power, thought the head gasket might be blown.' he grunted, pulling a length of something free and emerging from the metal. There was a smudge of dark grease on his ear.  
'I was going to go to the Chinese Buffet but, shit, I'll just zap there instead. You want any food?'  
He was wiping his hands on a rag, scowling at the car. 'Can I come with you?'  
Temperance hesitated, covered her silence by standing up and dusting herself down 'Sure.'   
She had dragged him across the county, to the only decent place to get Yi Mein, and was careful not to let her hand linger on his arm. It surprised her then, when he took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together and tugging her towards the brightly lit shop front.   
He read the menu, tapped the glass. 'You know what Sam wants?'  
'BBQ pork and those skinny noodle things. He's clearly feeling down, didn't even ask for vegetable options.'  
Dean nodded and held open the door for her to enter, he quickly took her hand again while they ordered and waited. His thumb rubbed over her knuckles, slowly, repeatedly, and he stared down at it in silence.  
'I didn't want it to happen like that.' he spoke low, barely audible above the sounds of cooking and the tinkling of the bell over the door.   
Oh, she thought. They were going to talk about this.  
'I should have told you that I like you and um, asked you out.' he still didn't look at her, he was flushed with the effort of gathering his courage.   
'I shouldn't have jumped you after the cinema.' that had been weighing on her mind too, somewhere behind the imminent death sentence of Hell.   
'I know you've got other things going, I know you still aint over loosing Crowley, I just. Shit. Tem. I need you to know how much you mean to me. I don't want anything from you, I just want you to be happy, but I gotta tell you this.'  
She had nothing to say, she opened her mouth, tumultuous screaming seemed to be building in her brain and no real human words could get through. She looked at her hand, locked in Dean's fist and tried, desperately, tried to think about what to say.  
Over her hammering heart that she could feel rising in her throat, she squeezed his fingers and said 'I want you to be happy too.'  
The server called their order out and Dean took it in his free hand. She got the feeling he wasn't willing to let go of her, not yet. They went out into a fine, mist like, drizzle. Dean pulled her against his side, ducking his head down against the rain.   
'Dean, I don't know what I'm feeling, I'm so set on Hell that theres no room for anything else.'  
'I know.' they had come to a stop by the mouth of an alley.  
'I never, ever, ever fucking wanted to hurt you and I know it was messed up, but, I don't regret it. I'm not going to try and make myself feel better about it, or make you feel better about it.'  
He carefully pulled her flush against his chest, gently kissed her. 'Thats enough for me,I don't need you to marry me or anything, I just need you to know how I feel. I can't let you do what you're going to do without telling you that.'  
She brought them home, and he finally let go of her in the kitchen, to get plates and beer, but he sat beside her while they ate, his knee pressed against her thigh.   
That night, alone with the washing up, she tried to work out what she felt. She was nervous, she had a gut-full of dread and worry and she was afraid, she was shit fucking scared of Hell.  
The garage door looked down on the unattractive woods, she stared through them, gnawing her lip.  
'Hi.' She heard Sam approach.  
'Hey, thanks for dinner.'  
'Are you as fucked as Dean?'  
He jumped slightly at the question, then nodded. 'Yeah. Honestly, I'm not doing great.'  
'No last minute, one in a million chances that we can take?' she was looking down at the still woods. The rain was beginning to freeze on the ground.  
'We, uh, we talked about trying to close the Gates of Hell again.' Sam said, ducking into the Impala and fishing out a pice of paper. He smoothed it out on the shinning car hood.   
She looked at the letter, not so much as reading it as taking in the handwriting, following the flourishes and curling letters, touching the ink with her fingers.  
'Gus.' she said, sadly.  
That his not exactly living hand had traced out those words, had rested against that page. Death haunted her steps, it seemed, everything around her died and she was being sent to a place beyond death, forever.  
She dropped the letter back on the hood of the car. 'I doubt you could have convinced Papa either way.'  
Sam sighed, folding the page up. 'We really don't have any more options, do we?'  
'No.' she agreed. 'This is it.'  
He could have offered her platitudes about saving the world and the greater good, to his credit he didn't. He followed her to her music room where she let him choose a record to play.  
His hair was beginning to recede at the temples, making his hawkish cheeks all the more prominent, when he sat, head in his hands, she was put in mind of a weary bird of prey, gazing down at the earth below its talons.   
Temperance put her hand on his lap and he took it, squeezing it gently in his much bigger one. He was still to young to look this despondent.   
'Did I ever tell you about a gig I did in Germany? A sort of rave at this abandoned airfield. Proper East Block place, all concrete and red stars.'  
He looked balefully down at her, while she arranged herself on the ground. 'I was about, dunno, 17-ish. Played all night, wasn't even drunk, just happy to be there. So, the suns coming up and I'm playing this cello cover of fucking U2's With or Without You because someone found out I was Irish. I'm playing away, back of my head thinking Bono is a pox, and a ray of light falls in through the broken roof. The party ends in that light, its too real. All these kids, students, sweaty and stoned and crashing, are standing there on the dance-floor looking at me and I'm a bit freaked out, so I finish up. Then this chick comes up to me, she had white-blonde dreadlocks and two nose-rings and these PVC overalls covered in glitter, she looks at me and she says, 'Why are you crying?' and I say 'I'm not crying.', but she puts her hand to my face and it comes away wet, then she leans in real close and says, 'You know, theres a world outside, theres a party for us.' and she stumbles away.'  
'Em, ok?'  
'Yeah, so, moral of the story is, as I took it, shit will work out. The party is never over, its just moving on.' she sorted through the records spread out around her, pulling out The Undertones and turning it over in her hands. 'And don't fucking tell anyone about me crying over U fucking 2.'  
He chuckled, weakly 'I wont, I promise.'  
'It was one of my dads favourites, you see.'  
The party is never over, she slept badly, woke up cranky and used all the hot water in the shower.  
Time was passing too quickly, she didn't think she should push her luck with Lucifer past Christmas.  
'I have to go in, properly, at a Hellmouth.' she explained to a stony faced Dean.  
'Whats that?' he grumbled, serving up burgers and fries for dinner.   
'Like a gate, an access point.' she was pouring over a map at the kitchen table, the nearest one was in Wisconsin. She pointed this out to Dean who nodded.  
'Take a day or two to drive.' he said through a mouthful of meat.  
'We can take the scenic route, if any cases pop up.' she assured him.   
He was mournful until they left, then pretended to focus on his driving. Sam couldn't find any cases to delay them, so they pulled in at a nice looking motel when it got dark and took a room. Climbing into bed that night she realised, she was as ready as she would ever be.   
She had already left the world behind. 

Dean didn't sleep, he lay staring through the darkness at the still and quiet shapes of his brother and Temperance until restlessness drove him to his feet. He left his bed and wandered through the grim town they had stopped in, there was a 24hour liquor store and an all night diner, catering to truckers, on the main road, after a moments thought he went in and ordered a coffee.  
The waiter was a tall, thin, Asian guy with a tired smile. He hid a yawn behind the back of his hand as he made change at the register. There was a few other zombie like patrons in the place, old guys with beer guts, hollow eyed people, tired people.   
Dean nursed his bitter drink until his watch told him it was late enough to be early, and he left, walking slowly back to the motel. He sat on a bench in the parking lot and watched his breath cloud in the frigid air.  
She was going, she was leaving, the Devil was going to die and she wasn't coming back. He couldn't find, within himself, the small joy of getting his dad back, he was too deeply ashamed of sending Temperance away.   
He was worried that his dads presence would always be tainted. He had enough unresolved shit about his father without adding this on top of it.   
He toyed with his brass knuckles, slipping them on and off in his pocket. Sam needed him, Sam needed their dad back, because Dean wasn't any help to him. He wasn't stable, he wasn't healthy, he was blood soaked and tired and Sam needed someone better than him. Maybe Temperance was thinking like that too, maybe she thought they he, Dean, needed better than her and his dad was all she could offer.  
The morning struggled up, looking as if it would rather not, the sun rising from a bank of iron grey clouds was quickly obscured by the stormy threat of snow.  
Temperance was leaving the reception, it was cold and she had a wool hat on over her dark hair. Dean ground his heel into the gravel, looking at her from under his lashes. There was a paper bag of snacks in her arm and she threw Sam a bottle of juice as she approached. She looked, not happy, but steady, resolved maybe.   
The end of her plait was coiled over her shoulder, there was something about her that made him think of gunmetal under that iron sky. She was all silver and shadow. Her skin, her hair, her beautiful and dangerous eyes, the steel in her core.   
Shit, he missed her already. He walked up to her, pulled her into a hug and pressed a kiss to her forehead, just to feel her, one last time.  
He drove them down winding roads and empty highways. Getting ever closer to the Hellmouth. With every passing minute she seemed to shine with life, she brimmed with something that wasn't joy, something complex and delightful and he wanted to taste it. He watched her in the mirror, no nerves, no fear, she just looked at everything, really looked at everything. She was more alive than ever before.  
He realised she was trying to enjoy her last minutes on earth.  
'Stop that.' she said, the car was quiet, Sam was asleep.  
'Sorry' he didn't try and deny it. 'Worried about you.'  
'Don't.' she met his gaze, the flinty depths of her eyes glinting in the half light. Her voice was a purr, a whisper, it rolled through him and he looked back at the road before he could pull over and demand that she stay.  
Why did he want her so much when he couldn't have her, why did it get harder with each passing minute. Why was he letting this happen. He tried not to scream and vent his growing frustration his tightened his grip around the familiar steering wheel, and drove on.

The gate was little more than a rock, raised slightly above the similar rock surrounding it. Dean brushed frost from it, feeling and old, worn, pattern under his gloves. Time had evened it out, he couldn't see much of it, it didn't look like a ward or a pentagram, whatever it was.   
Temperance was holding a jar of blood, her own, and she unceremoniously poured the contents out on the stone. 'Ready?'  
'No.' Dean muttered.  
Sam blew out a breath, lifted his knife. 'Not even a little.'  
The portal groaned open, a rush of foul air and darkness burst from the place where the blood pooled on the rock. Beneath the field was a dank stair, Temperance went in first, she didn't look back, she barely blinked.   
As they made their way down a maddening spiral staircase, through crumbing arches and along roughly hewn floors, a darkness descended that their torchlight couldn't breach. It seemed to flow like liquid around them, enveloping them in its embrace.  
Sam hit his flashlight off his palm, trying to safe the weak beam, but it went out and they were left blind.  
'It's ok.' Temperance soothed. 'I can still see.'  
Dean felt her press something into his hand, he fumbled a moment and clicked the lighter. A pale blue radiance from its guttering flame. It didn't light much of the way, but it was better than the hell-dark air around them.  
The floor evened out, eventually smoothening into neat flagstones, guttering balls of gaslight appeared at intervals along the walls and great iron cages of flame lit up the vaulted ceiling.  
'What is that?' Sam gestured with his broken torch to a sticky, oozing substance that was meandering down the walls, the stench of bile and sulphur filled their nostrils. Dean covered his mouth at the invasive urge to gag.  
'Its blood, dead-mans blood.' Temperance said.  
They had been walking for almost an hour and no one had appeared to challenge them, that in itself was enough to set Dean's frayed nerves on edge. He was about to ask why they hadn't seen anyone, worrying that something was watching them, when a long, deep, growl broke out before them.  
It froze them to the spot and made the back of their necks prickle. Dean knew that sound, they all knew that sound. That sound had dragged him to Hell once already.  
Sam scowled, planting his feet firmly apart. 'Hounds.' he spat.  
Jaws began to snap, acidic spit sizzled on the ground around them, where unseen drooling beats prowled.   
'Don't attack them, I think they're just here to frighten us.' Temperance didn't sound sure, but she lowered her knife as she spoke.   
There was a snap, like the crack of a bullwhip and the corridor was suddenly a room, and at the top of it the Devil was sitting, waiting. Eager eyes on the three visitors and a red Santa Claus hat at a jaunty angle on his head.  
'Welcome to my humble abode!' he clapped his hands.  
Temperance, deadpan, haughty, untouchable on the stone floor, was staring at Lucifer, with a pang Dean knew she had already left him and Sam behind. 

Temperance had decided, she was probably going to die, she was allowed to be a cunt to someone, so if Lucifer set those dogs on her, she was going to rip off his dick and feed it to one of them. She waited.  
'Happy holidays!' Lucifer's brow crinkled for just a moment, then he clicked his fingers, a sharp snap against his palm, and the room was suddenly decorated with wreaths of holly and glitzy red bows, there was a gaudy tree in one corner and twinkling lights on his Throne.  
'So, I'm here, as promised.' Temperance tried to look for a body, but John Winchester was nowhere to be seen.   
'Come here.' Lucifer demanded, crocking a finger.  
Dean shuffled his feet, steeping towards the Devil. 'If you hurt her.' he began to warn.  
She felt a swell of emotion in her heart, a warm feeling of love. He would threaten the Devil for her, he would probably have a go at killing the little shit if she asked.   
'You'll what? Pout at me!' Lucifer scoffed and skipped towards them, stopping just beneath a pointed stone arch hung with mistletoe.   
'Just say the words kiddo!' he held out a hand, his face hungry and intent.   
This was it, her time to shine.   
She took a deep breath, pushed it out past her lips and squared her shoulders, she was ready. Behind her she felt Dean and Sam still, a quick look over her shoulder, they were stoic, sad, accepting, heads bowed. Trying to project the idea that there was no other choice, that was that, and the greater good meant more to them than anything. It meant more than her.   
An uncharitable part of her mind seemed to say, the greater good did mean more to them than she did, but she pushed it aside.  
She plastered on a smile, tried to steady her nerves. 'Lets do it.'  
Lucifer growled and dragged her across the invisible border, hugging her tightly and kissing her closed lips with a smack. He smirked and pointed at the mistletoe while she wiped her mouth, sneering.  
'As promised.' a click of his fingers and a body appeared on the floor, a red bow stuck to his chest.  
'Dad!' Sam and Dean called out, together. Their mingled voices thick with disbelieve.   
'You can go now.' Lucifer said to them, clicking his fingers once more and making all three men vanish. No goodbyes, no hugs, no teary kisses. They were gone, her boys were gone.  
Lucifer was taking his time running a hand through Temperance hair, sniffing the scent of it, he held her face so she couldn't turn away from him. 'Well honey, whats next?'  
'Trim the fucking Christmas Tree?' she shrugged off his touch, rolling her eyes.  
She was ready, she was ready. She had the of vellum her pocket, ready to be signed. She stomped towards his throne and sat in it, swinging her feet up over the arm. She needed to sign this, in his presence, she needed a decoy.  
'Are we keeping the decorations?'  
He snapped his fingers in answer, returning the throne room to its usual drab state. He stalked towards her, grinning like the Cheshire cat. She was nervous and her thoughts were scattering, looking at him she didn't worry about that smile, she was too busy thinking of Alice in Wonderland and how scared she had been of the Mock Turtle, then she bounced to a Blink182 album and how hard the drum line had been to learn. Focus, she told herself, fucking get it together.  
He was leaning over her now 'Get off my Throne.' he hissed.

Hell felt different, less real than it had. 'Lucifer?'   
He had been walking with her, showing her the sights, such as they were, and looked at her politely. 'Uhuh?'  
'You've not really told me the ins and outs of your plans, but I've an idea for you. A deal, sort of.'  
'A deal?' He trailed a finger over her neck, not quite a slicing motion.  
'Yep.' she slapped away his hand away.   
'It's simple really.'  
'Do tell.' he clicked his fingers, transporting them both to a balcony.   
It was a flat, polished expanse of rock that jutted out from the rough red stone palace. Below them churned dark grey clouds of despair and thunder and a bruised, mad, sky, hung above. There were no rails around the edge, just a sheer drop down, you might fall forever, if you happened to slip. Or be pushed.  
Lucifer lead her to an old marble chess board set in the centre of the balcony. She smiled gently at the neat rows of chess pieces, stroked the cracked white queen and tried to recall her dad's voice. He used to say, when they played, take blood in the middle-game. She wondered where she was now, in this play of hers, beginning, middle, or end.  
She allowed the Devil to pull out her chair and sank into it with a gracious nod. Pawns, Knights, Bishops, Rooks. He was a King, they were more limited than they realised, she was a Queen and she could do anything.   
'So, what do you want?' he asked.  
What she wanted, what she really wanted was a world without magic, without Satan, without god. Just a world of humans and free will and nothing supernatural, but she couldn't make that happen, not yet.   
Maybe not ever.  
She had come down to the finish line, and now it was time for the great lie, she needed to sign this document in Hell, she needed him to sign his power away. She was prepared to lie with every fibre of her being, every atom, every molecule, every thread of virtue and streak of vice.  
'I want the Gates closed, both of them. I want the Earth and the Humans to be left alone. No more wings coming down or scales getting up. If you need me to take over Heaven, then thats my price, both Gates shut.'  
He nodded, slowly, frowning at his own carved pieces. She moved a Pawn, setting it down with a click.  
'Both Gates, huh?'  
'Come on, you hate Demons as much as you hate people. Its no great ask, and you don't want Angels interfering with the World either.'  
'A big ask, remaking the world into what the mortals assume it to be.' He made his move, sliding the heavy stone over the squares. His voice lost the sing song quality he used on Earth, his face seeming to become ageless, less masculine. The power shinning through his human vessel in this place where reality depended on who was looking.   
'Half the battle is already won, they already don't believe.' she put her Knight in play. Attack with the Knights and Bishops, Castle if you can, protect your royals and watch your opponent.  
'Besides your help with Heaven, what do I get out of this?' he had freed a Bishop, had taken her pawn. First blood, it was early yet.  
The game got faster, she took his bIshop, trapped his knight left his queen vulnerable. 'What do you want?'  
'Power, control, the ability to live deliciously, I want to feel, I want to revel in evil.' he tapped a finger on the board and shoved a pawn forward, almost as an afterthought.  
'You have all that.' she pointed out, taking his Queen, hesitantly.   
His fiery yellow eyes, flicked over the remaining pieces. She saw in four moves she would have him, three moves, she would have him. He was playing poorly, on purpose.  
'I want Heaven, I want it all and I want you. You give me Heaven and I'll close the Gates, then it will be just you and me left on Earth, but you're sticking with me, forever.' He said this with a strange finality.  
'Why do you want me?' she penned in his King. 'I'm here, like I promised.'  
She was a little shocked to still be alive, she had thought that he would kill her, keep her here as a Demon.   
He flicked the piece over and reached for her hand. 'Because everyone else seems to. Dean Winchester wants to love you, John Constantine wanted to marry you, Crowley wanted to worship you and God wants you on my Throne. You got power kid, you're completely outside my understanding. You're it. It. You're the power and the glory.'  
She let her hand rest in his, they looked out at the hellscape, mulling over that with apparent uncertainly. Her whole aspect devoted to that falsehood.  
'I want you at my side, as my Queen. I want to go through eternity with you. I wanna give you the world just to see what you would do with it. I want your full and willing cooperation when I take on my father.'  
'You don't want an equal partner, you want someone a step below you. Thats not really me.'  
'No' he agreed, tracing her, more or less, living veins under the warm skin. 'But you'd keep me on my toes, you'd try and ruin all my plans and you wold be so open and honest about it. I want that. I want you.'  
'What makes you think I'm ok with taking on god?'  
'Don't be coy. I know you, sweetie.' His white teeth flashing like razor blades. He kissed her hands, her mind recoiled at the thought of those teeth anywhere near her.   
'You're big problem with the world and with living in it, is the system, you've walked behind the scenes and met the director. You know he's a narcissist, he's a manipulator and he's got no empathy for his creations, but worst of all, he's the Man. You're too much of a safety-pin punk to put up with him.'  
If god was a narcissist what the fuck was Lucifer, she wondered idly, what did he see himself as, did he really believe his own mythos, that he could rule instead of god. 

She freed her hands from his grasp and pretended to think, hard, on his words. With what she hoped was a a convincing acceptance, she pulled out her folded up vellum. Then she asked, heart hammering 'Have you got a pen?'  
He smiled, that predatory smile, like an old wolf eyeing up a tender rabbit. 'Show me where to sign!'  
He took her arms and suddenly the chess board was gone and a podium stood in its place. A black quill and a pot of red ink, dark as blood, had appeared at her hand. She wondered if he would feel it, if he would know that the power had gone to her, if she managed to pull this off.  
The paper was Crowley's contract, but she had John Constantine to thank for the apparently blank surface. He had had this playing card, it was dog eared and ringed with stains, but it hadn't looked like that all time time. Magical forgery had been this bread and butter, for all he liked playing with fire the man could have earned a decent living with White-Collar fraud. The playing card looked like whatever he suggested it looked like, and it worked, maybe 80percent of the time.   
The spell was simple, making people believe it was the hard part. Belief had always been Temperance's downfall, she had negative faith in everything. Everything except John Constantine, because when he said he would do something, he did it, there would be messy endings and consequences and heartbreak, but the job would get done. She believed in John Constantine, and she had a hope, in hell, that he believed in her.   
'You are such a show off.' she sighed, seeing how Lucifer had dressed them both in tuxedos. Her heart was steady, her mind was steady, the hard part was done but this wasn't over yet.   
He smirked, loading the quill with crimson ink.   
'I can back it up though.' he muttered.  
She read carefully through the agreement, to assist him in destroying god if he were to close the Gates, and frowned as if she was unsure. He had written it in Aramaic, for her. it didn't matter what the language was, not here, not in Hell, not on this paper. She had to squint to see the Latin beneath it.  
He put the quill in her hand and put his own hands around her waist.  
'Well?' He read over her shoulder, dropped his mouth to her ear.  
'Fuck it.' She signed, pressing as hard as she could through the paper.  
'We got such big plans baby!'  
Had it worked, she didn't know, fuck. She watched the ink shimmer as it settled and dried, then folded it up and shoved it in her pocket.   
She plucked at her bow tie 'This is get-up is just embarrassing now.'  
He clicked his fingers, transporting them both the his chambers, Crowley's old rooms. 'Well lets get you out of it.'  
She slowly peeled off the suit, shimmying out of the uncomfortable trousers until she was in her plain black briefs and bra. She went to the wardrobe, nestled where they always were was a pair of her boots, her socks still balled up inside. Neatly folded jeans beneath. She sat on the stone to do her laces up then pulled a suit jacket from its hanger and shrugged it on. It didn't smell of Crowley, that was long gone.  
Something slid into the back of her mind, something oily worked under her scalp. She snapped her head up, clearing her throat as quietly as she could. It was there, power, she could feel it.  
Holy fucking shit.  
With shaking hands she poured a drink from a crystal decanter and Lucifer loosened his bow tie, following her with his sharp eyes. She knocked back the whiskey, made a face. 'Glen-fucking-fiddich, Jesus Christ Gus.'  
Lucifer snuck up behind her and pressed a kiss to her neck. 'Lets get to it honey bee. Lets make you a Knight.'  
'I'm thinking a Queen.' she turned, smiling. Power pulsed like life inside her mind, in her spirit, in her fucking kneecaps. She could feel it everywhere, and he couldn't. He was blind.  
She raised her fingers and clicked them.

Hell reached out to her, the stores of power that Crowley had built had been waiting for her and she was so very hungry for more. Lucifer shuddered to perfect stillness as the very air froze solid around him.  
A strange yellow light began to emanate from his body, his skin cracking and breaking to let more light through.  
Bars of shadows danced on the walls around them, shrinking forward to puddle on the floor then standing up, almost solid around Lucifer. The cage began to take shape flowing and growing into existence once more, a plane of reality over-lapping with this room in Hell.  
'No!' he roared, but his mouth didn't move, the sound arrived fully formed inside Temperance's. 'No!'  
She was chanting non-stop, words she did not know, not even blinking as she poured the power into the prison. More shadows detached form the wall to form a solid cage around him. God-like power moved around her and through her. Hell fractured at their feet and rents appeared in reality. The iron that was not iron clanged and snapped, fully formed around him and his flesh melted away. The briefest burning flicker of ruin and light as his formless self was smothered by the magic of the trap, a roar like thunder sounded in the deep and woke up things that hadn't existed before, it called forth monsters and magic but they had no where to go, and no minds to think.   
Crowley's contract, a masterpiece of a contract, shaping Hell to work in her image, bending the laws of reality to give her everything.  
What a rush.  
She wasn't built for this though, it took its tole in blood and pain. The power kept building up in her mind and it had to go somewhere. It burst forth, looking for an outlet, looking for a place to earth and the force of it shattered her.  
She finished her work, panting, blood pouring freely from her ruptured eyes. The words, a new seal to lock the Devil deep in his prison, rushed fully formed from her mouth. It made her gag, it was as if spoke through her, she let him speak through her, she let all of this happen.   
It was not Latin, or the language of Angels, it was the Word of God and it tore her apart to hear it. It was a rusty knife through her throat to speak it. Her wings around her glowed, briefly solid and real, she could smell them burning.  
The sound that settled the spell had no equal, a rage of creation like the formation of the earth itself, rock clashing against rock, atmospheres dying and forming, fire and magma and searing, blistering, scorching heat all the sounds of primordial chaos. The trap and its prisoner flashed between planes for a moment before vanishing into the ether and leaving behind a blood curdling smell of burnt flesh, mutilation and bile and Temperance.

Temperance collapsed face first onto the splintered floor, retching and shaking too violently to hold herself together. Her head was ringing, like someone had used her skull as a bell, she couldn't see, or think all she could do was feel and she felt horrendous. From her toenails up there was pain beyond pain, her stomach churned, cold sweat broke out over her back and face only to be replaced on a roving basis with flashed of intense heat and when, finally, after an age, she could control herself enough to sit up she almost passed out from the rush of blood to her head.   
She looked around, her eyes filmy and gritty in their socket. They had bled freely, along with her eardrums and nose. Her fingernails too were rotten with blood. Her tongue probed her teeth, surprised to find them all intact.   
It hurt too much to have weight on her bones, to think. She shivered, realised she could feel her wings on her back still and they hurt worst of all. She took a moment to try and store them away, it didn't work, she could find no calm to enter.   
She stood, bloody and nearer death than she would have liked. There was an unnatural calm in the rooms, in the palace without, she drank the last of Crowley's scotch, wincing at the raw taste and stumbled to the door and rested a moment against the frame. She was exhausted, but she couldn't rest, not yet.   
She had to try and get home, she needed to get home, she didn't want to stay here.  
The throne room was deserted, the great stone seat itself was cracked, she ran a hand over its back as she passed. The walk to the carved doors seemed so long, but she got there and pushed them open with difficulty. I'm dying she thought to herself, it hurts so much. Her ribs protested the inflation of her lungs and her lungs protested their use and her heart hammered in agony between them. She tottered on bloody feet up the red stone corridor, leaving wet prints in her wake. The roof ceased existing at the stairs, it had not caved in or been blown up, it was just gone, neatly sliced away and the maddening sky was, for once, perfectly still, no jupiter-like swirl of red and butcher stamp blue billowed across it, it was almost calm.   
She had to stop at the bottom step and cough, and she couldn't stop coughing for quite a while, blood and something fleshy staining the stone worn by eons of suffering and insanity. The fluid boiled on the hot rock, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and kept walking, drunkenly, over the causeway.  
Demons, oily and fleshless, fled at her approach. They had felt the deed done, they could see her magnificent, if somewhat shabby, wings. Her black shadow eyes staring and merciless in her bloodied face. She must look a state, she reasoned.  
A clang, a ringing of ancient bells, neither stone or metal. She tottered back clapping her hands over her ears until the din subsided.   
She opened her eyes in the throne room, sitting on the ugly old stone chair. The pain of existing had subsided a little. She stood, everything protesting, a symphony of demons swarmed before her. She pushed herself up, felt the weight on her back still and concentrated, very hard. Her wings folded back up, disappearing to some other place, and her vision cleared as her grey and human eyes fought for a place, pushing the smoke and blood back.   
'Sup?' her voice as hoarse and low.  
The hoard dropped to their knees, bowing to the stone.   
'Shit' she sat back down, her legs couldn't hold her up.  
'Hail Satan' they roared.   
'Temperance' she said wearily, rubbing her temples.   
'Hail Temperance!'   
'Cock'. She looked up at the ceiling 'Brave new world, is it. Right.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Thats A Wrap -
> 
> Finished the first draft of this story and we be returning to it at some point int he future.  
> Might need a beta, might rip it all up and start again!  
> Hope you enjoyed it. Comments are very welcome.


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